Pathway
by Twin Sword Rhapsody
Summary: A girl kidnapped for her extraordinary abilities, finds herself alone in a foreign world... Ordered to safeguard her, her captor begins to see her as more than a girl with godlike powers... but can she learn to love him in return? UlquiorraxOrihime HIATUS
1. Stray

**P . A . T . H . W . A . Y**

**I**

_Stray_

_How shall we leave the lost road  
Time's getting short so follow me__  
A leader's task so clearly  
To find a path out of the dark_

"You have been given your orders," a strong deep voice intoned, the silky quality of it casting no echoes in the large expanse of white. Swathed in shadow, the great white throne of the heavens appeared more sickly gray than the glorious radiance it was supposed to inspire, as if the form it held had corrupted it to a mere shade of its former self. The figure seated within it idly brushed a particle of dust from his lordly coat, his steely eyes fixed on the being standing before him.

The being was human in appearance, although he seemed strangely distorted in the perpetually shifting light and dark of the throne hall. The figure was lean and thin, his skin chalk-white; neither sallow nor frail, but ghostly. The man would have appeared almost innocent in appearance, if it were not for his eyes. They shone a wicked green in the semi-darkness, like the reflected luminosity of cats' eyes at night. If one looked closely, one could see that the pupils were long and narrow as well.

The place was strange; so full of spiritual energy that time seemed to stop as soon as one entered within. Not a whisper of breath could be heard from those residing here, only the voices of those wishing to be heard. And yet all here were aware of one another's presence…

The cat-like eyes shifted slightly, mechanically, although the figure remained still, his hands lying lazily in the pockets of his long hakama.

Alone of all the twenty, he would not bow to the one seated in the throne, despite being only the fourth most powerful of his 'siblings'. But then, it didn't matter—so long as he continued to obey orders, down to every last detail. The man in the throne of heaven smiled warmly, though the superficial grin did not reach the cold depths of his eyes. He studied the spectral figure closely - it wasn't like the fourth Espada to hesitate; his command had been simple enough.

_How strange._

"As you wish, Aizen-sama," the figure answered, the pale face as impassive as always.

In another instant, he had vanished, leaving a thoughtful silence in his wake.

* * *

A lurid sun blazed radiantly in the cloudless cerulean sky, the grass beneath it swathed in its solar warmth. There was a breeze, nearly indiscernible amidst the myriad green sylvan forests and calm plains, but it was there nonetheless, like a whisper half-uttered. The gentle waves it created in the grass told of its presence. It dabbed at the sweat of those it touched, and played in the leaves of the friendly trees. The grounds behind the old shrine were rarely used; everything here was overgrown save for a deep-set canyon at the bottom of the hill. The ground there was bare from the centuries of reiatsu used over it. Powerful spells had been cast and honed within, and over time the mystical energy had charred the life from the canyon base—it was full of boulders and grainy sand.

For once the white-tressed man sitting upon the hilltop was not seated there to enjoy the atmosphere. Since the confrontation with the Menos, the weather, oddly enough, appeared halcyon and fair. Not too hot, nor too cold. It was perfect for sipping afternoon tea, or training in the vibrant sun.

_The calm before the storm._

He swallowed hard, remembering all that had happened, and thinking of all that would happen in the near future. Aizen's betrayal had put all the captains on edge—everyone was busy, working hard, training, overseeing—it was enough to drive one to drink. Captain Ukitake sighed, brushing his silvery-white hair from his face before taking another long draw of tea. The pungent texture of the loose leaves left a pleasant taste in his mouth.

Below him, within the training grounds, a pair of figures wove and danced about one another, flashes of light both brilliant orange and cold blue blinking in and out of the thin layer of air between them. One was small and dark—a blurred shadow in the stark sunlight. The other was lean and tall—a girl dressed in a simple school uniform. Her fiery red hair hung loose and unkempt about her shoulders. Ukitake smiled knowingly. The small dark figure clearly had the upper hand, moving less often than her red-haired counterpart, although it was clear the human girl was holding her own. Every once in a while the two would pause simultaneously while a swift critique was made, and other times both would sit on the ground and rest and laugh.

They certainly seemed to be having fun at least…

_But..._

Four months. That was all they had. Captain Ukitake had been glad to lend these girls the training grounds behind the shrine given the circumstances. A battle was drawing ever closer, and it was good to be prepared. A thread of uneasiness tugged at his insides. For the tenth time that day, the captain wondered what the future had in store. Where Aizen would send his Hollow minions next—just how many Arrancar he had under his control. What sort of monsters these beings actually were.

Ukitake's brow furrowed as he watched the dueling girls, wondering if whatever they accomplished within these four months' time would, in the end, be enough.

* * *

Orihime wiped her brow clean of sweat and grime.

She was exhausted.

The human girl could feel her reiatsu begin to expire, and glanced at her opponent, wondering if the smaller woman was feeling fatigued at all. But that thought was quickly washed away. She watched as the shinigami leaped high into the air, her hands held out before her, tendrils of blazing sapphire energy already coursing along her fingertips. Orihime Inoue's blue eyes widened as she instinctively drew her hands in the customary position over her head. As her shield became ready for release, she found time to smile at her friend, admiringly.

What energy Kuchiki-san had!

"Byakurai!" Rukia cried, just before the stored energy in her hands released itself, the line of cerulean lightning whipping forward towards its target. Just in time, Orihime conjured the familiar bright orange, fiery triangle. The blast struck hard, but Santen Kesshun held fast, this time. As Rukia came at her again, she called out to her not to hold back. Orihime nodded in fierce acknowledgement, a grin upturning the corners of her small mouth.

_All right, Kuchiki-san. Try this one on for size!_

She leaped aside as Rukia dashed towards her, zanpakouto held high, her thoughts drawn to Tsubaki, the flame spirit—her only mode of attack. Her mind summoned him with all her remaining strength, but the fire demon was silent, as he had been since the encounter with the Menos Grande only a month ago. Disappointment and worry clouded her features…

_Crap!_

As Rukia's blade drew nearer, Orihime could only dodge again. She jumped backwards, but found that Rukia was already sliding behind her, sword inches from her defenseless back.

And then, the critique began.

For someone so short, the human girl thought, Kuchiki-san could deliver one of the longest and most extravagant lectures in the Soul Society. She was doing well, but needed to get faster, and observe her surroundings. She focused too much on holding up her shield, but not enough on her opponent. She moved too often, and it drained her strength. The redhead nodded politely in between statements, her mind wandering out of worry for her lost flame spirit, and for a certain someone else as well…

Distantly, Orihime recalled the encounter only a short time before with the Arrancar. The reason they were training so hard now. As the scenario replayed in her mind, she realized just how much worse it could have been…

_Ichigo_…

At the time, she was awed at how strong he was. His bankai energy resonated with unyielding spiritual pressure—she'd watched the familiar black energy spiral in bursts of controlled chaos around him, her confidence in him soaring. He called the power forth with such astonishing ease that Orihime had wondered if it cost him any effort at all. It was no wonder the intruders had seemed shocked, she had thought. She had felt it when the young Soul Reaper had fought against Captain Kuchiki there on the mountaintop, but it was something else entirely to see him in action up close… until…

Something had gone wrong, as if Ichigo's own power were rebelling against him. He'd been brutally beaten by the larger stranger; the overgrown Arrancar she had tried to defend herself and her mangled friend against before he had come. In a desperate attempt to save Chad and Tatsuki, she'd put up the same shield before them both, sending as much of her energy as she could into its fabric before the impact came. The great hand descended roughly, the barrier practically creaking under its force. Orihime's hands had trembled with the effort of holding back its strength, and the bright triangle—cracked, and faded only seconds later.

_Badly frightened but determined, Orihime gathered together what reiatsu she had left to set up an attack—her only one. The giant's surprise granted her a moment to look at the two vastly different Menos. If she could strike at both Arrancar with the same technique… if she could just distract them long enough for help to arrive… Chad's arm was healing well enough for now, but the Menos' attack had badly strained her energy resources. She was having trouble concentrating on mending her unconscious friend's wounds as well as drawing up an offensive… _

_She took a second as the two Menos conversed with one another to study them… the larger, heavier Arrancar had his full attention on his smaller, sleeker comrade, who seemed somewhat bored with the whole affair. And Orihime couldn't help but stare. _

_His face…_

_Her eyes met those of toxic green etched within a pallid face more reminiscent of a funerary mask than an actual visage. The poisonous viridian of those orbs seemed to bleed over onto the chalky skin. Green tear-streaks that might have been comical on another's countenance, but the cold interest of those eyes sent shivers down her spine; he looked at her as if she were an unusual specimen accidentally spotted in a petri dish. And he hadn't attacked yet, hadn't done anything but stand there and observe. _

_Something about him terrified her… _

_Orihime's own blue eyes narrowed in response. She looked back into those orbs defiantly resisting her own fear. Summoning all the resolve she had left, she held her trembling hands in front of her, forming a triangle she aimed between the duo. She could feel Tsubaki readying for release, and screamed the command, intent on using him at his full force at last—these monsters who had harmed her friends, and these nameless people all around her, who were unlucky enough to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time…_

"_Koten Zanshun!" she began, her voice quavering, yet strong. Flares of vibrant orange erupted immediately around her, the spirit summoned within them angry. The force of this reiatsu took her by surprise—the flame spirit answered to her own determination and amount of energy. She felt her resolve strengthen as she perceived how strong her magic had become. The fire demon was silent, and ready. Tsubaki had seen firsthand the atrocities committed by these two - and wouldn't stand for it. The souls of those around them were eaten—gone. For the first time in many months, Orihime's own anger flared—she closed her eyes against the brightness in her own palms…_

"_I REJECT!" _

_Violent tongues of flame leaped to her extended hands, the resulting beam of energy slicing at the larger Arrancar. Orihime prayed that Tsubaki would make it past the first, and strike the second as well. Then, as always, Ichigo would get here and save them all, once again. _

_She knew he would come…_

_The human girl watched the giant's eyes widen with glee, saw him deflect the blast, while the green-eyed stranger merely gazed on, as though this were all a rather uninteresting television show. She could feel Tsubaki vanish, perhaps injured—or worse. _

_Orihime's stomach plummeted, her face blanched in fear and astonishment. All that power, and he had deflected it so easily… _

_Who were these people?_

"_Lookie here, Ulquiorra!" the giant addressed his comrade in a voice both bumbling and garbled. "Is she trash, too? Can I crush her?" The giant Hollow's clumsy gaze flickered from the beaten girl to the bored Arrancar. Orihime found herself looking into those eyes too, this time questioning her fate. The stranger had never even moved, it seemed, as if he were only a painted statue. She waited for him to speak; and all the while, her heart was pounding against her ribcage, hoping that Ichigo would come, would make it in time._

_The thin, ghostly stranger seemed to ponder for a few seconds, as if taking current circumstances into account before passing judgment. Finally, the green eyes closed. Orihime listened closely, her breath held._

_Please, Ichigo…_

"_Yes," the Arrancar said at last, his voice flat and icy, the emotionless voice of a computer speaking through a man's deep voice. "Trash. Both are inconsequential." _

"Orihime!"

Rukia's apprehensive voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up, half-expecting to see the pale Menos from her vivid memory, but that was silly. There was no way she would see him again - at least, she hoped.

Her gaze quickly fell upon an obsidian colored butterfly hovering just above the space between them. Orihime looked at it blankly, as if it were a flying pink elephant, rather than a messenger.

"Espada!" the short Soul Reaper explained angrily, obviously perturbed that Orihime had really not been paying that much attention. The stress was palpable in her tone.

The human girl's lips parted. It took a few moments for the word to sink in.

_Espada?_

The two she had seen before?

"Four of them have just appeared!"

Orihime gulped, her mouth suddenly dry.

"They weren't supposed to come for another—" she began, feeling the panic rise. Where were they? What were they doing here? Why had they come yet again after only a month?

"I know," Rukia's brow furrowed in thought. Distantly, Orihime heard Captain Ukitake beside them, his tea long forgotten.

"I'm going," Rukia began. "Everyone's there! I've got to—"

_Everyone's there..._

"I'm coming too!" Orihime blurted. Her fists were clenched defiantly. All this training—surely she could be of help this time. She had to be there… for Ichigo's sake. If he tried to find them, tried to fight, she wanted to be there to protect him. She

This time… things would be different.

To see him injured, and defenseless… was too much to bear even once. He was supposed to be powerful, invincible in her eyes; but when he wasn't, it was her job to be strong for him. No matter what happened... Her expression must have betrayed her feelings, because as soon as she glanced up at Kuchiki-san again, she saw both pity and chagrin written on the shinigami's face.

"You won't be able to follow me without a second butterfly," Rukia said quietly. "You'll be lost between the dimensions." She gave Orihime a meaningful look.

"I've got to send you to the real world before I go."

Orihime felt cold, all her previous musings wiped clean. Was Kuchiki-san trying to say she'd only get in the way? A month of hard training, and precious little to show for it. She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say, her heart quailing under the shorter girl's calm gaze. She was supposed to be there to defend him - to not see him in battle would be horrible. What if he got hurt, and she wasn't there to help him?

What if he got hurt protecting her?

_Maybe Kuchiki-san is right…_

Would she only get in Ichigo's way if she came at this point?

There was a shifting sound behind her, and Orihime felt a warm hand cup her shoulder, though it did little to comfort her.

"She's right, Orihime," Ukitake said. "Without a second hell butterfly, you wouldn't be able to find your way back to any dimension, and that wouldn't do anyone any good. The best thing you can do now is to follow Rukia's instructions. You'll be safe there in the real world; I'll send guards with you.

"And don't worry," Ukitake said as Orihime turned towards him, glaring mutinously despite her conflicting feelings. "Your time will come." The captain offered a kind smile, which the human girl returned, more out of habit than anything else. She sighed helplessly, remembering Ichigo's fight with Byakuya Kuchiki only weeks before. She'd been weak then, too. Unable to aid him… and she knew it.

She would only have caused him trouble.

Rukia's hand outstretched, and she took it miserably.

After all, did she have a choice?

* * *

Ulquiorra Schiffer observed disdainfully as his five subordinates opened the portal from Las Noches that would take them to the group of Soul Reapers training obliviously below. He folded his arms, bemused. Did they not know that Aizen and all the Arrancar could see them at all times; attack at any given moment? Instead, they were working and training under the hot sun for weeks on end, all for naught. In the end it would do them no good, no matter how powerful they thought they had become. Ulquiorra closed his eyes.

_Pitiful._

The great room they were in was empty, but so large that the normal icy walls were hidden completely in the surrounding misty shadow. Yards and yards of gray marble floor stretched underneath them. It was as though they stood in flat, dark tundra.

Ulquiorra glared at each Espada in turn, his cold eyes resting lastly on cerulean-haired Grimmjow, who turned and gave him a menacing grin.

_You got the easy job._

And so he had; but it was Ulquiorra Schiffer that Aizen had entrusted with this task, not his somewhat hotheaded counterpart. A logical choice on all counts. Of all the Espada, Ulquiorra was best suited for this particular errand. Unlike half the other Vasto Lordes, he could think clearly in tight situations. He was powerful enough to break any opposition that he might encounter, yet small enough to do so inconspicuously. Unlike Grimmjow and the others, who enjoyed ravaging half the surroundings before a fight was finished, he was quick and precise. They, on the other hand, would all draw any battle out for sheer enjoyment—something Ulquiorra believed was entirely wasteful. Once an opponent's spiritual power was gauged, it should be brought down without hesitation. Ulquiorra slid his hands into his pockets and continued to stare ahead, expression unreadable, even as Grimmjow smirked at him.

Thinking of the task ahead brought to mind the particular energy that the human girl had possessed. Nowhere near his own; not even close to the orange-haired Reaper's power. And yet his account of her had fascinated Aizen. The fourth Espada was interested in what sort of power this human girl contained, and why it was that his master had such an interest in her.

He waited for a few moments for the girl to be left with whatever defenses were available to her. He couldn't expect his enemies to be quite as efficient as he was, after all.

* * *

Orihime stood within the confines of her own set of bodyguards. Captain Ukitake had sent all the Soul Reapers he could spare to protect her. These men were only trainees, but their offensive attacks would be useful against any Hollows that happened to show up, since her own were lost to her. Since her ordeal with the duo of Arrancar, Tsubaki had yet to heed her call. His absence was unnerving. She pushed the thought from her mind, taking her time to study her surroundings instead.

Rukia had sent them to a forest, at the outskirts of her old home - it would be far too conspicuous to suddenly appear within the city limits. Orihime and her guards would have to walk there, and somehow meld with the crowd. Their farewell had been too hurried for Rukia to explain any more of their precarious situation, but Orihime assumed that she would be taken back to Soul Society after it was all over. The redhead imagined her friends fighting the four Arrancar without her, wishing that she could be there too. She felt miserable and useless out here all alone.

Why had they sent only one hell butterfly?

"Miss Orihime?" one of the guards addressed her, concern in his voice. She looked around at him—the taller of the two. His hair was short and spiked, but Orihime couldn't make out the distinct features of his face in the darkness. The moon high above them was a thin, wispy crescent, the stars clear and bright. She grinned confidently up at the guard, hoping to put him at ease. There wasn't any sense in putting her worries on the shoulders of others. Especially, she thought, when there was nothing to be done about them.

"Okay," she replied cheerfully. "Let's get going! It's a bit of a walk to get to my house from here." The guards exchanged looks, and Orihime took a few steps forward. The city below glowed eerily ahead of them in the roiling mist, the trees all around them like dark spires reaching out at the sky. Orihime glanced to and fro as she walked, ever on the alert for danger, despite the fact that it was unlikely.

_But not impossible…_

Every step she took seemed loud in the quiet; not a cricket stirred, nor any harmless forest animal that might have frightened her if it moved. There was only a stagnant breeze floating in the air, like the hands of ghosts brushing against her skin. Orihime shivered involuntarily, her attempt at cheerfulness now only a memory. The atmosphere was one that drained all happiness from the air, leaving only an aching anxiety that the lingering silence did nothing to dissipate.

A few more feet, and the gentle wind suddenly rushed against her, peeling her hair back from her face. Orihime winced, her breath taken by the sudden gust. There was a keening noise in the night…

Something rustled behind her. She spun quickly, feeling eyes on the back of her head.

One of the guards had collapsed.

Orihime gasped silently, immediately raising a healing shield around him. She turned, slowly, cautiously, towards the piercing glare of her attacker. She could sense his immense spiritual pressure, even though she knew he was dampening it to keep his visit a secret from anyone who might be watching. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

The spiritual pressure was _familiar_ to her.

_The ponderous Arrancar had made a mistake in attacking Kisuke Urahara—the shinigami had always been powerful, far more potent than the one grinning before him, preparing for attack. Benihime sent an explosion of red towards the Menos Grande, impossible for him to block or evade at this distance. There was a stunned silence as Yammy's jaw slackened, and to Kisuke's disbelief, the silence was uninterrupted._

_A blur of color foretold his coming, his arm raised, body taut but graceful and sinuous. He had blocked the attack with his bare hand. Orihime, injured and delirious, sensed him come closer. She looked up at him, curiously, not understanding. Had he actually saved the larger Menos…? _

_Orihime stared, unbelievingly, and at last, his gaze found hers._

_Blue eyes met those of luminescent green. _

The Vasto Lorde was still, the clammy breeze ruffling the edges of his white surcoat. He stared at her through partially lidded eyes, his head tilted as if wondering what she would do next. Orihime stood defiant, for her friends far away, for the one she loved. No matter what happened now, she would see this through for them. Her muscles tensed, preparing for his second rush. His right hand still glowed faintly green, from the Cero that he had just summoned.

Behind her, she could hear the second bodyguard breathing rapidly, his zanpakouto rattling in its sheath. The tall, pale newcomer had all but killed his comrade with a single blast of well-aimed spirit energy. Orihime took up her defensive stance, expecting him to strike at any minute.

_I've got to protect them._

She waited for an attack that did not come.

"Come with me, woman," his silky, mechanical voice was deep and quiet. Confusion filled her mind, incessant questions muddying her thoughts. Clear perception was impossible—she took a step backward, her stalwart aura faltering despite herself. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly, staring into his feline visage. What did he mean, come with him?

_Why? _

The silence between them was drawn, and it seemed for a minute that they were matching wills. For Orihime, there was the defiance she felt, the sense of responsibility pushed upon her because she was alone. No one to protect her this time. She found herself the one protecting others instead. Just as she had been nearly a month before.

And he… …had a purpose.

Distantly, she heard the sound of metal scraping against a sheath. The zanpakouto had come out, was held in a trembling hand.

The redhead tore her gaze from the Arrancar, turned resolutely to the second trainee, the palms of her hands still pointing outward towards his fallen comrade. The energy would flow more smoothly if she controlled it like this.

"Run," she ordered him, her voice somehow calm despite her pounding heart. The guard stared at her skeptically for a few moments, his hand pressed to the hilt of his sword. There was a fleeting instant in which Orihime thought of rescue, of someone rushing in to help them. Ichigo perhaps. But as she gazed into the guard's panicked eyes, she knew that the three of them were utterly alone. No one knew this Arrancar was here, after her. His reiatsu was held carefully back, so that it only permeated their general area. He was sent here alone, and had injured one of her guardians. And yet he hadn't harmed her in any way.

_Why? What does he want with me?_

She turned questioningly back to the pallid figure apparently awaiting her acquiescence. He raised a hand, lazily, and Orihime, realizing too late what he was about to do, had no time to raise a protective shield. The hand came down in a casual slashing motion. There was a noise behind her, a flash of green, and the other guard was unconscious, injured as badly as the guard still splayed beneath the shield. Orihime extended the healing hemisphere to envelope both of her protectors. She stood gazing stolidly at the glowing dome, willing the process to go faster, and as she did so it expanded higher, its light staining her face a warm, fiery orange. Beneath it, the guards' skin mended, bones fused, and breath became steady. The sound of the Arrancar's padding footsteps told her he was drawing nearer, but she dared not break her focus from the task. Her heart was dancing now, her mind working to keep her hands steady, to keep the healing spirit Ayame focused. Every instinct within her told her to run from the advancing predator behind her, but if she did, these men would surely die.

"You can heal them both, even so gravely injured?" the quiet voice inquired curiously.

She didn't answer, instead concentrating fully on the energy she wielded. The dome of transparent orange pulsed faintly. She could perceive him coming nearer all the while.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Every movement he made towards her amplified the strain on her willpower. Orihime could feel his presence beside her, his spiritual pressure reaching out at her, intentionally distracting. The solidity and sharpness of it made her think of tempered steel. It was arctic, threatening to crush every last ounce of strength she possessed underneath its icy weight.

_Like Ichigo's that day._

"Aizen-_sama_ is interested in your abilities," the Arrancar explained, putting careful emphasis on the honorific. By now her head was pounding, every word he breathed branded into her thoughts. "He has bidden me to retrieve you."

Orihime said nothing, did not move. She would have questioned this, but the strain of keeping up the shield coupled with the weight of reiatsu over her emptied her mind entirely. It was as though with these words, he had wiped all speculation away.

"You will come, or your friends will die." He said it as a computer would, neither anger nor regret in his tone, merely expressing two routes in a single pathway.

Her pathway.

Orihime spun on her heel, her concentration failing at last. The once strong bright shield flickered dangerously around the fallen men, and before she could bolster it again, it blinked and faded out of existence. She glared angrily at the expressionless face, the eyes that would not move. He was a barrier she could not cross. And yet, she told herself she would not go without a fight. Whatever Aizen had in mind for her, she would not obey in the end.

_But everyone will be in danger if I don't go..._

"There are no other options," he said, as if responding to her thoughts. "You will not say a word. You will go to Hueco Mundo without complaint." As if by a fleeting thought of his, four windows appeared in the space behind him, every frame showing someone she cared for in a silent struggle. Each face that passed before her eyes was another snare caught at her heel. He was threatening her with their lives—and he knew that she would comply, for their safety was as important to her as her own. The last time he had seen her, she had proven that much to him. Ulquiorra Schiffer did not forget, and Aizen-sama did not misinterpret.

It had all been meticulously planned, and they had all fallen for it. She had no choice… and he knew it.

From somewhere in her memory, the voice of Toshiro told her of the three classes of Menos Grande. The Vasto Lordes were supposedly the most human. The most cunning. The least beast-like.

_He isn't human. _

No human would ever speak like that. There was nothing in the tone of voice with which to relate. It was as though something else spoke through a human mouthpiece. Inwardly, Orihime grimaced. The idea was revolting.

He was a monster.

"I will not say it again," he murmured, oblivious to her thoughts, or perhaps not. "Come with me, woman." Orihime sensed that her would-be guardians were well enough now to be left alone. They lay as they had fallen; blissfully unaware of the imminent danger they were in while the green-eyed Arrancar was present. Perhaps, Orihime prayed, they would tell someone—anyone—what had become of her. With that optimistic thought in mind, she followed her captor into the void he drew with his hands.

* * *

Chapter 1 completed! No flames please, and I don't own Bleach. Although I love the characters.

Please review! So I know if I should continue or not. Keep in mind that everything isn't exactly the same as it is in the anime/manga. And it's sure to deviate more in the future.

The snippet at the beginning's from Mirror Mirror by Blind Guardian—I luffles that song…


	2. Valediction

**P . A . T . H . W . A . Y**

**II**

_Valediction_

Orihime stepped awkwardly through the portal, and stood quietly as it closed around her allowing her eyes to adjust. She had entered with her mind full of apprehension and fear of what awaited her on the other side, but as she stepped into Hueco Mundo, her mind was rendered calm. The air here was cold, musty, yet full of spiritual power. She could sense the presences of thousands of Hollows - souls condemned to wander this barren place forever.

_Hollows can only stay alive by eating the souls of humans..._

Suddenly, Orihime felt extremely vulnerable. As she finally was able to take in the scenery around her, her eyes alighted upon Ulquiorra. That had been his name, she remembered. His was a face not easily forgotten. His whitewashed features beamed softly in the darkly lit atmosphere, and Orihime found herself shivering. He was like a spirit in a haunted house. A lean, tall, sleek Hollow with gleaming dispassionate eyes. Would he devour her soul, as his ogre of a subordinate had taken the spirits of so many others?

She swallowed hard, but he only walked innocuously away... expecting her to follow.

The building that they entered spread before her in limitless serpentine corridors as they walked. The complex was washed in distinct variations of slate gray—the color of the floor, the shade of the lofty ceiling, all the same foreboding hue. Columns loomed high above, the entrances that they guarded filled to the brim with velvety starless night. Every so often, she would see a plume of mist emanating from somewhere deep within the castle, but it was always slow moving, like a lazy fog that stood as unmoving as the stone pillars around it.

Orihime stayed close to the only other being in this place. She hugged herself warily—it was cold, and she felt that ominous sensation that someone was watching her unseen. The Arrancar was leading her somewhere deep within the maze. The farther they walked, the colder it became. Orihime hugged herself, wishing she had a thicker sweater and some pants. More to stave off the thought of the frigid air than anything else, Orihime cleared her throat as a pretense.

"U-Ulquiorra," her voice seemed feeble in the expansive hall. It echoed again and again, issuing from different corners of the labyrinth. Orihime winced at the sound. They walked a few more paces before he stopped, turned to look back at her. His expression was not angry, but there was something within it that made her uneasy. She stepped back, watching his hands warily.

"The big Menos called you that," she explained, a bit perturbed.

How forgetful she became! Why was she addressing a Menos Grande, expecting him to reply as if they were old acquaintances?

Why had she spoken at all?

"That's your name, isn't it?" she pressed on, determined to appear brave despite the way she felt. "I remember hearing it when you and he were—when I saw you… that time."

Her nerves, and the harsh sound of her own voice in this silent place made her talk too swiftly. She gave a nervous smile that he did not return. The face was as mask-like as ever.

He turned away, and continued walking without an answer. Somehow crestfallen, Orihime resumed treading at his heels. The scenery was repetitive around her, everything the same. She supposed she should have been counting the number of entrances she had passed, to find her way out again, but they had taken so many turns she doubted she would be able to remember anyway.

Orihime's brow furrowed. Besides, the thought of traveling alone here unsettled her. Who knew what dwelt within these corridors? And, she reasoned, they had come here through a portal. There was no telling where an actual exit might possibly be…

She gulped. If there even _was_ an exit…

"Ulquiorra Schiffer." His unexpected voice interrupted her thoughts of escape. He glanced around, his brow rising incrementally at the astonished look on her face. Orihime stymied, wondering why he had replied, his words sounding forced but otherwise calm.

"My name."

"Oh," Orihime replied awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. What did one say to someone who had kidnapped them and threatened their friends' lives?

_Nice to meet you_?

Still, she persevered, feeling hopeful. "Schiffer-san, I'm—"

"Orihime Inoue," he finished for her coldly. "You will refer to me as Ulquiorra. Civility is extraneous where our circumstances are concerned." For the first time, a hint of annoyance filled his tone. As if he would rather be anywhere but escorting her through this foreign place. Her heart sank, tears already forming in her eyes. This place was bleak, and she knew not what lay in store for her. Surely she would meet Aizen eventually, and if he did not find her useful… she pushed that thought to the back of her mind.

Why had she spoken to him?

Perhaps, she told herself, she had been hoping for some semblance of friendship with—anyone in particular. Now she knew she was alone here, but she didn't know when she would ever be able to leave. To see—

Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to stifle a sob. The small sound resonated softly, but still loud enough for her captor to hear. Orihime stiffened, but the Espada only looked at her briefly, his green eyes vaguely curious. She had acted so sure of herself before; why the sudden shift?

Ulquiorra led her to a small room deep within the labyrinth. The walls, like all the others in Las Noches, were a lifeless shaded white. But, thankfully, a small window caught her eye, though it was barred. Orihime imagined that it wouldn't be easy to look anywhere out of it, but she was glad for the sight of the sky. She hadn't realized that there even was a sky in such a dismal place...

_At least I'll be able to tell what time of day it is…_

She studied her surroundings carefully. The room was entirely empty, save for a minuscule table, a drab couch, and a small futon in the corner. Orihime looked forlornly around the blank chamber, and then at the Arrancar, who observed her carefully before producing something from his pocket. He held out his hand expectantly, the back of it turned toward her. It was porcelain white, and if the place had not been littered in shadow, it would have blended perfectly with the whitewashed color of the room.

She stepped forward automatically to receive whatever he had to give her, cautiously, yet oddly glad that he hadn't immediately left her there by herself. She kept her eyes on his, wary of his intentions. Something heavy and soft fell into her outstretched palms.

His hand.

Orihime shivered.

The ghostly digits opened, revealing a silver, glimmering bracelet. The metal was smooth and polished, her reflection barely visible in the thin band. Despite its slenderness, the bauble sat heavy in her palm, as if imbued with some energy that gave it weight.

_A gift?_

"Wear this at all times," Ulquiorra admonished, and Orihime slipped it on her wrist quickly. "With it, you will only be visible to the Arrancar, and certain Soul Reapers within Las Noches. You may also pass through objects in your world, but it is not possible to do the same here." Orihime stared down at her wrist, and then at Ulquiorra. Her brow furrowed in confusion, eyes quizzical.

Her world?

Why had he mentioned that?

"You have twelve hours," he continued calmly, studying the back of his hand. "You may say goodbye to one person during that time, and only one person." Orihime's breath caught in her throat, unbelieving. He was letting her go—at least for the moment. She could go anywhere in the world that she wanted to. Anywhere at all. Dare she try to escape? Her heart pounded at the idea. If she could get somewhere safe, perhaps someone—anyone—would be able to help her. But then, he had said that the bracelet wouldn't allow anyone to see her…

_So, I'll just take it off._

"However," his voice interrupted her frenzied thoughts of getaway, "they must not realize that you are there. If you attempt to escape or if you show yourself in any way to anyone," his eyes flicked up "your friends will perish. Rest assured, I will know if you do this." The redhead blanched. He had said it as if her thoughts had been written all over her face. Which, given her situation within the last half hour, she imagined they probably had been.

_Get it together, get it together._

Orihime swallowed, wiping her face of all emotion, and nodded gravely, feeling her heart soar nonetheless. If she were determined…

"I will meet you at midnight," he added. "The place where you first saw me. Be certain that you are alone at that time."

"Yes," she replied, her eyes sparkling.

Ulquiorra blinked once, his hand rose slowly, pressed against something that she could not see. The air between thumb and forefinger distorted, tore. She gasped as midday sky threw the room into sudden light. Orihime leaped headlong into it as if the Espada had granted her freedom, so suddenly that he could only stare after her as she ran.

* * *

She flew swiftly, her feet treading easily over both grass and pavement. Her heart was pounding, her face full of color, breath coming in gasps. To see Ichigo one more time, after nearly a month! She told herself that she would make her presence known somehow, in any way she could. She had to let him know she was all right—he would worry about her, just as she worried for him, knowing she was gone. She ran haphazardly to her first destination, denying herself her prize for later. She would see her friends first, one last time. Each familiar face she saw would give her that much more strength later on.

_When I try to escape..._

There were a few people in the streets, but Orihime easily weaved her way around them. She slowed abruptly, leaning against a nearby telephone pole to rest for a moment, wondering whom to see first, and simply studying the atmosphere. The sky was a cloudless, piercing blue. It was noon now, she knew—Ulquiorra had given her twelve hours, and said he would meet her at midnight.

Had it only been a dream? The situation seemed so unreal—gazing at the bright sky, listening to the busy noises of the town, it was hard to believe that such a desolate place as Hueco Mundo existed. She glanced down at her wrist just to be sure. There sat the silver bracelet, innocently twinkling in the radiant sunlight. Orihime sighed miserably, wondering who she should visit first...

* * *

Ulquiorra spent a long moment staring after the girl, his lurid green eyes glimmering curiously. Honestly, humans were so strange—he'd rarely ever dealt with them like this before. They had always been beneath him, hardly worth the effort. Even as a simple adjuchas, he imagined he had felt the same way. Ulquiorra's eyes closed briefly. Those memories were fuzzy at best. And what did it matter what sort of beast he'd been as an adjuchas anyway?

He let the portal close, trusting that his charge would obey his orders, lest he act on his threat.

The fourth Espada felt unease. The others should have returned by now—he was particularly wary of Grimmjow. The cerulean-haired demoted Menos would by no means be willing to follow his orders. The fact that he had not, after such a long span of time, healed the scar given him by the ryoka, Ichigo Kurosaki, meant that he was intent on finishing their duel. Better to stop him now, he supposed, before something happened that was—unintended. It was amazing how much Grimmjow was able to complicate things.

With another flick of his wrist, he opened a second portal, this time gazing at a half-ruined block of city within its depths. A few buildings were cracked open, dust spilling from their insides. Columns of smoke whirled through the clear air above, telling the world of the destruction below.

They had already gotten started.

A twinge of regret flashed across his features for a split second. Had he taken too much time with the human girl? Ulquiorra pushed that thought from his mind. It was foolish to worry about things that were already said and done.

His flash step took him closer to the battlefield. Ulquiorra always gauged the situation before acting—it was surely logical to do so, lest undue injury befall him. Not that there were many that could somehow manage to harm the fourth Espada. Certainly not the pathetic—person—that Ulquiorra saw as he phased in nearby. Bloodied and beaten, Ichigo Kurosaki was entirely at Grimmjow's mercy. The Arrancar's blue eyes were alight with malice. He held a Cero spell at point-blank range—the red of it swathed the Soul Reaper's face in morbid light.

Time to intervene. The fourth Espada gathered his formidable reiatsu around himself—it flew around him in the form of hurricane winds—easily drawing Grimmjow's attention. He saw the blue eyes widen in shock, and then narrow with malice.

"Here to protect him, Ulquiorra? To tell me it ain't necessary to kill him now?" he called out raucously. Ulquiorra said nothing, but studied the sphere of power his supposed ally held out towards the orange-haired one, as if offering a gift. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you!" At that precise moment, the fourth Espada felt the energy surge, felt the Cero barely held by the cerulean Arrancar's fingertips. He saw the fierce look of abandonment in the Soul Reaper's dark gaze. And at this precise moment, Ulquiorra acted.

A flash step brought him beside Grimmjow. Ulquiorra wrenched the Arrancar's wrist upward, drawing the Cero into his own hand. The red energy sparked between his pallid fingertips, and over the back of his hand. There was discomfort, but the power difference between them was too great for it to be noticeable. As he absorbed the energy, Ulquiorra saw two sets of eyes—blue and brown—fall on him simultaneously.

"You damned traitor," growled Grimmjow beside him. "Get the hell out of the way!"

"Your orders did not include this," he replied calmly, cleanly. Grimmjow wrenched his wrist from Ulquiorra's grasp, leaped back, and drew his zanpakouto, pointed it at the pallid one before him. Ulquiorra blinked.

"We both know that you do not have the power to best me in your current condition, Grimmjow." It was a fact. Grimmjow had been punished with his demotion—the Soul Reaper Tosen had relieved him of his left arm. It had lowered his ability greatly, and, even while he had worked to raise it again, he was no match for Ulquiorra. The fourth knew this, and yet watched with cloudy incredulity as Grimmjow dashed forward, not at the one hunched over on the earth, but at Ulquiorra instead.

With a trained eye, the green-eyed Espada followed Grimmjow's attack, the curve of his sword, the movement of his eyes. In a split second, he had struck, but Ulquiorra had seen it as if the blue-haired Arrancar had been miles away. Sword met the pale skin of Ulquiorra's spear-hand with a flash of sparks. Ulquiorra blocked the blade easily enough. With his other hand, Ulquiorra resumed his grip on Grimmjow's wrist. His fingers dug into the Arrancar's tendons, and the sword loosened in his grip—but did not drop. Grimmjow snarled in dismay, his fingers forming an iron talon around the blade's hilt.

"What d'you wanna save him for, eh?" the demoted Espada hissed. "Aizen thinks he's a threat—why wait until he actually becomes one? He's nothing now! Let me finish him!" Ulquiorra's expression, as always, did not change, but his eyes followed something that Grimmjow soon noticed as well.

A portal was opening. Within stood several Soul Reapers—Yoruichi Shihoin and Kisuke Urahara among them. Ulquiorra blinked, remembered Yammy's duel with these two, how it could have gone that much worse had he not taken matters into his own hands. The pallid Arrancar was not intent on fighting these - he hadn't been commanded by Aizen-sama to do so. It was time to leave.

"Damn it," Grimmjow swore.

* * *

As she drew near his house, she felt his spiritual pressure there: weak, but present. It was worrisome—he always tried his hardest, and the enemies he had fought were strong. She clenched her fists, wishing she could have been there to protect him, wishing that she could have gone. All of this mess was a nightmare - it had gone all wrong. Why couldn't she have gone with Kuchiki-san?

Orihime found his room from the outside. The window was blinded shut, and, remembering Ulquiorra's words about her bracelet, she pressed her hands firmly to the outside wall.

_Go through… go through… come on…_

As if the surface suddenly vanished, Orihime fell through the surface. She had to jump back a bit to keep herself from tumbling into—

_Ichigo…_

He lay bandaged underneath his blankets on the bed. His normally headstrong eyes were closed in slumber. The darkness and his peaceful expression softened him. She smiled warmly, feeling the color rise in her cheeks. This was his room. Orihime spent a few moments simply looking at him. She resisted the urge to waken him and take off the bracelet. He would look at her, perplexed at her appearance in his room, and then smile at her. They were friends. Then she would tell him what had happened, and he would protect her from harm.

But... he was injured. Could she ask him to do that, even knowing he could only harm himself further?

"I missed you," she whispered softly, testing the silence. He did not stir.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, Ichigo," she continued, a little louder, her eyes falling on the bandage wrapped around his head. "I wish I could have been—more useful to you." Orihime grasped the fabric of her sweater, giving it an anxious squeeze. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, but she blinked them back. She leaned in closer, studying his face intently, her eyes grazing the strong curve of his jaw. She heard him breathe easily, his slumber undisturbed.

"We've been through a lot haven't we?" she asked him, suddenly smiling, her mind flooded with memories. Ichigo's breath was warm on her cheek. "I'm glad—that we shared so much time together. I—" Orihime fell silent, inching ever closer. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her hair brush his chest as she leaned down beside him. Her lips were inches from his, her heart pounding. If he woke…

But that didn't matter.

The distance shortened, the moist warmth of his breath touching her lips. She had waited for this… wanted it for a long time now…

_But…_

Orihime drew back, suddenly, two pearl drop tears splashing the sleeping shinigami's face. They rolled down his cheeks, flowing like crystal rain.

"So—I can't do it after all," murmured Orihime. She smiled, laughed a little. _Am I just afraid?_ she asked herself. Did she merely lack the confidence?

Why?

Orihime turned, looking out at the clear dark sky for answers, the moon outside a radiant specter watching her. She fingered the silver bracelet idly, imagining with a shudder that she saw a flash of green eyes in the distance. Ulquiorra would be waiting for her. It was nearly midnight. She gasped, feeling sick and miserable. She didn't want to go back, but if she didn't, what would the Arrancar do to her friends? Ichigo couldn't defend himself as he was now...

Her time was up.

_One last thing…_

Orihime carefully edged towards his desk. She took a pen, and in the farthest corner of the largest notebook, wrote a last farewell. Surely someone would find it soon. Surely they would look there...

_Goodbye, halcyon days._

She stared at her message for a moment, heard the wind rustle outside. Should she write something more? She turned around, looking outside, expecting the Arrancar to be there wondering why she was late. The moon glared at her accusingly. If she disobeyed… But would they know where she was? How did one get to Hueco Mundo anyway? Orihime hesitated, her fingers reaching for the pen again. Some stray leaves rattled softly against the windowpane.

Too late for that; it was time to go.

Orihime exited the way she came. The streets, once so busy and boisterous, now lay empty and lifeless before her. For a moment, she worried for her safety, but then she remembered that the bauble she wore rendered her a ghost. No one would see her here.

She made her way to the park where the two Arrancar had appeared, closed at this hour, but if she willed her way through the gates, she could travel within. The coldness of the night air chilled her bones, but the calm of the sylvan scenery stilled her heart at last. Orihime walked towards a small pond, remembering days spent here on picnics with her friends.

In the distance, she could see the land still ravaged from the sudden attack by the Arrancar weeks before. There was new growth there, but the scars from the battle would still be there for months to come. Rather than remind herself of that day, she decided to turn her attention to the peaceful waters instead.

Tonight, the water was still. A perfect mirror of the sky danced on the surface. She looked above, at the whispering trees. The sakura blossoms above her were not yet in bloom, but soon would be—the buds were pink and nearly ready to open. Orihime idly picked an early blossom from a low branch and bent down to let it sail on the open water. She sat on the dry bank, feeling blades of new grass under her fingertips. The tiny flower began its journey with the current, a lone pink spot on the black surface.

Her tears flowed freely now—she would miss this place.

_Everyone…_

"It is time to leave."

Orihime gasped loudly, whirling and getting to her feet so fast that she nearly fell down again. For the first time since she'd seen him, Ulquiorra seemed taken aback. His brows were arched, and his eyes were widened slightly in surprise. He stared for a long moment, quizzically. Then a pale hand rose to his face, tracing the green tear streak that fell from eye to jawbone.

Orihime blinked, both stunned by his sudden appearance, and the confused expression he wore.

"Oh!" she smiled sheepishly. With a sleeve, she wiped her own tearstains away. Orihime imagined that her eyes were probably puffy and red too, but there was nothing she could do about that right now. She looked away from his perplexed face, feeling awkward.

"I'm sorry—I just… am really going to miss a lot of things here." She laughed half-jokingly. "I didn't even get to see the sakura blossoms bloom this year."

Ulquiorra's green orbs were unrelenting.

"You are to go to Aizen-sama in three days' time," the Espada said in his silky monotone, though it was noticeably softer than before. "He does not tolerate… weakness." Orihime stiffened.

_Weakness…? Hasn't he ever seen someone upset before?_

A second thought occurred to her.

Was this a warning?

She searched the Arrancar for a shift in expression, but found that doing so was like trying to read emotion in a brick wall.

He turned without saying another word and opened the portal that would take her to her prison. She was expecting another long trek through the corridors, but this time, the rift in the sky led directly to her room. Orihime sighed. The tiny space was a bit of a disappointment after the park, and it was exceedingly dark save for a column of light emanating from the moon outside. She walked in, feeling slightly claustrophobic. Was she really supposed to live here of all places? For how long?

She sat on the little couch near the entryway, watching Ulquiorra close the portal. He seemed to take his time drawing the two edges together again, perhaps waiting for her to say something more. But Orihime doubted that he was here just to hear her speak. He had already proven that he didn't much care for her company - he had seemed irritated earlier.

_Too bad_, she thought. _He's the one who kidnapped me, so he'll be the one to answer my questions._

"Three days," Orihime repeated as the gateway was sealed. Ulquiorra turned to look at her. "Why does Aizen need me?" She observed him closely; the slender grace of his lithe form betrayed his strength. As he moved, she could see his muscles bunch underneath his coat. The diagonal light hit his figure at an angle, and in the soft rays of the spectral moon he looked more and more like a wayward spirit. His eyes gleamed like vibrant jewels in his angular face, the luminance from the tiny window casting them alight.

_What, are we admiring him now?_ she mentally scolded herself.

"That is for him to tell you," came the short reply. The ghostly Hollow blinked once, mechanically, as if something within his thoughts was shifting.

"Some servants will bring your meal in the morning."

"Why not you?"

The question slipped out before the red-haired girl could stop it. Perhaps it was the stress of the day that had done it, or perhaps Orihime was simply irritated with the quick retorts the Espada kept giving her without her actually learning anything. Regardless, she bit her lower lip nervously, hoping he didn't react suddenly out of anger. Ulquiorra frightened her, and yet something about his demeanor had made her bold, and perhaps—reckless. There was a long silence, in which the Arrancar studied her meticulously with those x-ray-like eyes of his.

With a delicate white hand, the Espada pointed to the bauble on her wrist.

"You have free access to this hallway only, so long as you wear the bracelet." Evidently he had decided not to respond to her question. "I shall know if you decide to leave this area of the castle, or if you remove it." Orihime frowned a little, deciding to replace her last query with a new one.

"Why just this hallway?" she pressed. He shifted his gaze to the door, the shadows created by the half-mask he wore suddenly bathing his face in pitch black. The effect made him look more demonic than ever, for his eyes glowed as if the light from the window hit them still. The deep, soft voice sounded as if it could have come from anywhere but the man standing before her.

"There are servants of Aizen who do not appreciate your presence, though most are not aware that you reside here. This is my section of Las Noches. Whilst you are inside of it, no one is allowed to harm you."

With that, he swept from the column of light in a whirl of dusky white cloak. The darkness swallowed him up entirely, and he vanished from Orihime's line of sight. She wondered if he had actually left the room; if, like a nocturnal predator, he could see her without her being aware. Orihime found the silence unnerving.

What else could be watching her without her knowledge?

She busied herself with studying the contents of her little room as her eyes slowly adjusted, not feeling quite confident enough to venture outside just yet, and still feeling depressed after her encounter with Ichigo. She hiccupped quietly with unshed tears.

How on earth would Ichigo and the others find her? She had wanted so much to help them, and here she was again, utterly useless. She was more a burden to them now than ever before…

* * *

Orihime seated herself benignly on the small couch near the doorframe. There was a soft clattering outside her door. She wondered briefly what the noise was, her sadness giving way to fear when she recalled the warning Ulquiorra had given her about some Arrancar being angry at her arrival in Hueco Mundo. She gripped her seat nervously. But after a moment, she also remembered the fourth Espada saying something about servants coming to give her food.

The night before had been filled with imagined phantoms stealing her away in the twilight hours. Where childish dreams had ceased to frighten her years ago, now they returned tenfold. And unlike her childhood nightmares, these fears were well founded. Sleep was made impossible with every sound—real or imagined—that she heard. Every creak or gust of wind could be an enemy, and where her powers would give her confidence, now they left her entirely as if they had never been.

She wasn't hungry.

Instead of looking up to greet her guest, Orihime decided to stare into her lap. Her eyes studied the fabric of her wrinkled school dress, her face set. She wasn't going to eat if she wasn't hungry. Period. Besides, what would Ulquiorra do if he found out she had not eaten? Threaten her friends' lives again? _If you don't eat, your friends will die. _What was next? Would he threaten them again if she didn't tie her shoelaces? She folded her arms against her, determined not to even greet her guest. There was a quiet shuffle as the tray was slid onto the little table.

Orihime clasped her hands together, waiting for whomever it was to leave. Minutes elapsed.

"You will not eat?" the fourth Espada's smooth voice filled her ears. She looked up at the lazy figure, surprised. Last night he had appeared as a demon; today, he was a man once again.

_Why is he here?_

Dimly, she remembered her unanswered question from the night before.

"I thought you said someone else would bring food," her tone quavered. She had spent the last few minutes in tears, and she imagined that her eyes had grown red and puffier still with misery and lack of sleep—his figure was strangely blurred and misty. But he had already seen her cry. What did it matter now if he knew she had been upset? He was the one who had caused it.

"I'm not hungry," she continued morosely, changing the subject.

"Aizen-sama has entrusted me with your care," he said, unyielding. "You will eat, woman, or the ones you care for will suffer." A lump rose in Orihime's throat, but she swallowed it almost immediately. She was tired with the night's fitful sleep, wanted nothing more than for him to leave her alone. She felt sick, even though her stomach was empty. Was he really going to stand there until she ate everything on her plate?

"I'm not hungry," she repeated, more quietly. Her eyelids were so heavy; if only he would go, she could rest…

"I will not allow you to compromise your health for foolish reasons, woman. You will eat." Ulquiorra leaned closer, and she felt her breath freeze. "Or do you not believe I have the ability to take what you hold dear away from you?" The girl looked blearily into his eyes. Did she believe that he had that power? Yes. But she knew he dared not use it if he wanted her cooperation. Knowing she was needed for her abilities changed things quite a bit in her mind. If anyone she cared for were hurt, she would not only refuse to act for Aizen, but would resist as well. With a knowing expression on her face, she looked up at Ulquiorra, still leaned over the table, his fierce eyes locked with hers.

Was he getting angry?

"I'm still not hungry," she said calmly.

"And if you hurt my friends, I _definitely_ won't be eating anything for a long time," she added quickly, just to be sure. Orihime waited, wondering how far he could be pushed. She felt the irrational desire to see him do something other than stare at her with that blank expression. To see him with some emotion on his face. Orihime watched as the perpetual frown he wore twitched. Her heart leaped. She'd gotten him!

Or had she?

His eyes narrowed briefly.

"You are going to eat, woman," he said, his voice slightly louder, but not enough to make her believe he was truly angry. He picked up a grape from the platter, the dark purple tannin standing out against his snowy skin. The girl flinched as he leaned closer still, his countenance inches from hers. Orihime shifted uncomfortably. His breath was cold and clammy on her face, but oddly sweet smelling, and the redhead wondered ludicrously if Hollows brushed their teeth.

"Shall I shove it down your throat?"

"My name's not 'woman'," Orihime chided, completely ignoring the fruit in his hand. She glared defiantly back at him, refusing to be frightened into obedience a second time. The first time had been for the sake of her friends, nothing more. He was a fool if he thought she would be controlled that easily. "And I told you I'm not hung—"

Orihime nearly choked as soft fruit pressed against her tongue. The sudden taste of grape skin was bitter, and something cold brushed her lower lip. It took her a moment to realize what he'd done, and in that instant, quiet outrage filled her features.

She stared disbelievingly at the slit pupils before her, hating him.

He was the one who had kidnapped her, taken her from the ones she loved. Forced her here, and was now forcing her to eat when she felt thoroughly sick with fear and guilt… and… sadness…

Orihime bit into the grape rolling on her palate, feeling the fingers on her chin lift. He reached for another grape, and held it to her lips. This time, she ate it without complaint. His actions had astonished her out of her defiance. He hadn't exactly shoved anything down her throat - his fingers were gentle, but firm. Was he really that determined to have her eat?

His irises were truly emerald, and striated with veins of lighter jade. She could drown in those eyes… fall through them as if they were oceans of viridian waiting to swallow her up. Memories of Ichigo flooded her thoughts. His eyes were dark and sure, and they sparkled whenever he held her in his regard. They were neither lifeless nor gelid, so different from the ones before her now.

She missed Ichigo so much…

…and yet, she hadn't been able to kiss him…

Warm tears flowed in rivulets down her cheeks, transparent mirrors for the man before him.

"I told you, Aizen-sama does not tolerate weakness," the Espada murmured. His quiet voice covered her like a blanket, somehow similar to the kindness in Ichigo's eyes. She swallowed slowly, wanting desperately to leave his presence, to sleep. But before she could rise, he had offered her a third piece of fruit. One more after that, and another, and still more… Her tears soon dried, and she felt the color rise in her cheeks.

Ulquiorra rose abruptly, taking her again by surprise. It was then that she realized how close he had been. He'd been kneeling over her, feeding her fruit. She let the fact sink in, and then looked at him incredulously. What exactly was he playing at?

"You will follow my orders," he said, "one way or another. You took your friends' lives into your hands today—I will not be so lenient again…

"…Orihime."

At the sound of her own name, the red-haired girl took an apple from the platter, looking away from her captor, speechless. She thought of her purpose here, thought of reminding him that she would never follow any orders if her friends were harmed, but the words wouldn't come.

* * *

Meh... not so pleased with this chappie... but there it is.

Two chappies in two days! Please review! sniff


	3. A Fine Line

**P . A . T . H . W . A . Y**

**III**

_A Fine Line_

Ulquiorra stared listlessly down the vacant hallway, feeling that he should be pleased that the plan had worked so well under his guidance. And yet something about yesterday's events had troubled him. Perhaps it was that the human girl—Orihime—had rattled him. He frowned. It was a feat not easily accomplished, and he had been surprised that he had reacted in such a way. She possessed, perhaps, more intelligence than he would have liked to imagine in a human. Instead of obeying completely out of fear when he had threatened her comrades, she had twisted the situation so that she was in control. He ought to have countered with a word, a second warning. He ought to have threatened _her_ instead—but the thought, oddly enough, repulsed him.

_Why?_

She was a prisoner, and ought to have done as she was told. In fact, instead of imprisoning her immediately as he should have done when he had captured her, he had allowed her a brief goodbye. Ulquiorra's frown deepened. Had that been merely to gain her complete cooperation...?

The incident with the food had proven otherwise. She had realized that he served another, and that if the leverage to control her were done away with, there would be no reason for her to obey. Aizen-sama would not be angry with her, but with him for making things that much more difficult.

_Perhaps to give the appearance that we are trying to be compassionate…_

So that she would cooperate more easily? Ulquiorra shook his head rapidly, as if ridding himself of some distasteful odor. The excuse sounded feeble even in his head. She would cooperate easily enough when threatened with the loss of her counterparts, and Ulquiorra was not foolish enough to allow her to escape. She was quite trapped here.

_So why?_

And here he was again, checking up on her. He brought with him an apple, which she seemed to enjoy the most, and a plate of strange pastries he did not know the name of. Yammy seemed to enjoy them, despite the fact that Arrancar had no need of human food—Ulquiorra detested it himself. He also carried a glass of water, which he had only tried once. It had tasted like cold metal.

The Espada slid easily into the room, the tails of his surcoat trailing airily behind him. Today it was loosened at the top, exposing the hole just below his neck, as well as the barest edge of the number four tattooed into his waxen skin. Its high collar of it kept catching on the bottom of his helmet-like mask.

Today, the human girl seemed politely startled at his appearance. She still wore her clothes from the day before, although her hair was slightly damp. The ends of it tapered and clung to her delicate face and her bright blue eyes stared up at him inquisitively. She wore a slight smile, which seemed strange to him after the events of the day before. She should be unhappy to see him - he was the one who had taken her captive.

"Good morning," she greeted him. "Breakfast, right?"

He nodded, edging closer. The apple, drink, and the plate of pastries he deposited on the small table.

"I trust I will not have to resort to such measures again," he said unaffectedly, gesturing towards the food. A warm color filled her cheeks, and she laughed hesitantly: an honest laugh, neither too harsh, nor too wild. There was a faint ring in it that resonated playfully in his ears. Ulquiorra observed her interestedly. The sunlight emanating from the window made the room almost warm and welcoming.

"No, I'm actually really hungry today."

She offered a small smile before taking a pastry from the plate. "Mmmm… I love cookies!" He watched as she nibbled the edge of one, grinning.

"Where did you get these?"

Ulquiorra blinked, as surprised as he was baffled by her cheerfulness. He had spent a few minutes this morning attempting to pick out something she might think was suitable, and after watching Yammy gorge himself on this food—_cookies_—decided that they must be reasonably good. But her high spirits seemed more from something else, rather than the small pastries she kept popping into her mouth.

"The Soul Reapers keep food storage not far from here," he replied shortly. He watched as some stray crumbs fell from her cheeks, barely missing the lank tendrils of hair about her countenance. She must have spent the morning looking around his area of Las Noches - there was a faint smell of soap in the air. "I see you have explored thoroughly."

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Your bathroom is very nice."

"Hnh."

"Thank you for bringing my food again this morning."

This he did not reply to, although her words made him slightly uncomfortable. Didn't he have better things to do than cater to an imprisoned human girl?

She finished her breakfast, a troubled look crawling over her features. Ulquiorra tilted his head curiously, wondering what had warranted this change in expression. Humans were strange, but this girl was nearly unpredictable.

Nearly.

"You are wondering about your friends," he hazarded a guess, not knowing exactly why he bothered to say anything at all.

"One more than the others," she replied, sighing. "I miss him, and I know he will worry about me when he wakes up. I just hope he doesn't do anything that will get him hurt even more…" Her voice trailed off.

"The Soul Reaper with the black bankai," he remarked, recalling the scene with Grimmjow. The band of Soul Reapers had come in just enough time to chase the two of them away—Yoruichi Shihoin and Kisuke Urahara were not opponents he was keen on fighting all at once. Ulquiorra had stalled, although not purposefully, just long enough for them to show up. He had kept the orange-haired man alive that day—saved his life, in a manner of speaking. Grimmjow would have destroyed him had he not intervened, but the girl had no knowledge of this—she'd only seen him after the fact.

She nodded, unaware of his thoughts, and there was a long silence between them for a while.

"I was wondering if I could see how he's doing." Ulquiorra tensed automatically at this. Something within him stirred, although he couldn't place what it was. But the answer came to his lips without hesitation.

"I cannot allow that," he said glacially, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, she was staring up at him, looking stricken. Ulquiorra flinched as a rush of something heavy surged through him, pulling at his insides. His chest ached, though he had taken no physical injury. However, the dull ache faded as he looked away from her. The feeling was frightfully new, although he dared not show his agitation.

"W-why not?" she asked, her voice quavering again, try as she might to keep it steady. The cheerfulness that had filled the room moments before evaporated, and the sunlight seemed starker than before. It was decidedly hot and stuffy.

"I'm worried about him."

His eyes narrowed angrily. Had all her cheer merely been a ruse to get him to let her out again?

"I am not a gatekeeper, _woman_." Ulquiorra put careful emphasis on the last word, waited expectantly for her to say something back, to tell him to call her by name. But she only stared listlessly at the wall. The Arrancar stiffened. Her silence was irritating.

_Say something._

The deadened look in her eyes did not change, and the difference between them moments ago and now was the difference between night and day. The transit made him angrier still, though not at her.

_At who, then?_

Myriad emotions roiled within him, things he had never before understood, but now crept from the depths of his heart unbidden and…

_Unwanted._

Ulquiorra left, and in his mind he told himself that he would not come again. His job was done—he had brought her to Hueco Mundo. Let someone else take care of her from now on.

* * *

Three days came and went more quickly than she had expected or wanted. As her meeting with Aizen drew near, she found herself becoming more and more nervous. She hadn't seen any sign of her ghostly captor, but would have been almost glad for his company. A lesser Arrancar that did not speak to her had brought her meals for the past two days. The constant quiet was beginning to draw on her.

That morning, she decided that she would not show the full extent of her power. If she appeared as if she were weaker, perhaps Aizen wouldn't find a use for her, and be forced to release her. The question was, would he realize if she were holding back?

_Probably_, she sighed.

She heard familiar padding footsteps outside her door. Her heart leaped unexpectedly, but her mind was full of confusion. In an instant she knew who it was—the Arrancar servant had a shuffling step that sounded like something was being dragged across the floor whenever she heard it. The fourth's gait was swift and sure, that of a wolf stalking prey in the darkness. Still, she said nothing to him as he approached her, putting on a cold expression that she hoped would chase him away again, and turning away for good measure. He glided towards her, unnoticing, resting behind her. Orihime felt a light hand on her shoulder, and she heard his breath come and go in soft quickened gusts near her ear. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

"Do not feign incompetence," the soft voice breathed. "He will kill you if you do not show your full strength." The hand squeezed tightly on her shoulder, making her wince.

"But he needs my abilities," she whispered, more to herself than the one standing behind her. "Why would he—?" She felt him hold his breath, heard him draw it fast between his lips. Everything he did was so quiet, but so close, she could sense everything about him. She shifted uncomfortably; he seemed agitated by something.

Orihime swallowed, remembering her previous encounters with him—how cold-blooded he had appeared. Now she was wondering if there were, in fact, two Ulquiorras.

_Why is he here telling me all of this?_

"It will take a great deal of power to do what he expects of you," explained Ulquiorra. "You have that power—but if he senses that you do not, or that you are holding back…"

"What does that matter to you?" Again the question came without restraint. This Ulquiorra was acting really oddly, Orihime thought.

She turned towards him smoothly feigning nonchalance, blue eyes aloof and calculating. As she looked there, she felt the weight of his hand fall from her shoulder. There was something written in his icy countenance, something she could not identify easily, but that was there nonetheless. She watched him carefully, wonderingly. He could not express it in words, but his silence spoke volumes.

_Is he—actually—worried about me…?_

"I am simply warning you," he returned. The eyes closed briefly, the shift fading, though not without effort on his part. As though he were telling himself that his own words were true. "Aizen-sama's goals are my own as well. To lose you would make things… difficult." He seemed to wait there for her to say more, but she did not. What could she say? Surety was a luxury not easily afforded here.

"I promise to do my best," she said, and meant it. Orihime was never one to break a promise to anyone—even an enemy—if that was even what he was. He had taken her from her home, certainly, but so far had acted on none of his threats.

Would he?

She turned away from him, watching the fading twilight from her tiny window. The stars were only barely visible in the dwindling sunlight, but the moon was radiant and white, as it had been many a night previous. Today it was waning. Would she stay here so long that it vanished altogether before her eyes?

When she looked for him again, he had gone. The disappearance was so sudden that Orihime wondered if she had only been imagining things.

Minutes later, she heard more people in the hallway—heavy footfalls, quick shuffling steps—there seemed to be a parade of many Hollows headed in her direction. For the first time in days, she stretched her senses. So many different reiatsu, she could not distinguish one from another. There were many of them, each varying in intensity; but none were familiar to her, except…

Ulquiorra was the first inside. The remote look of anxiety was gone, replaced by an indifferent expression that suited her perception of him more closely. The more she studied him, the more she became convinced that his previous visit had been all in her mind. What an overactive imagination she had, then.

"Come, woman," he commanded. "It is time to see if your abilities can be put to good use."

He was the same frosty Arrancar she had seen the day Urahara-san and Yoruichi had saved both herself and Chad as well as Ichigo. The one who had called her 'inconsequential' and allowed the big Espada to attack her, hurt her. The redhead swallowed hard, the danger she was in suddenly real.

_Why wouldn't it be real?_

She glanced at the open door, sensed vast energy levels directly over the threshold, felt the color drain from her face. If her power wasn't what Sosuke Aizen was looking for…

Orihime walked slowly outside at his insistence, a host of strange Hollows and Soul Reapers alike there to greet her. Some Hollows still had masks on, while others showed their countenances only part of the way. None of the Hollows' spiritual pressure resonated nearly as sharply as Ulquiorra's, she realized. The large Arrancar from a month ago would have more power than most of them. But there were still so many. She found some faces only vaguely familiar—in the background, a silver-haired shinigami grinned at her from the shadows. She felt rather than saw Ulquiorra take a place directly behind her as they walked. Some of her escorts peeled off from the group, seemingly only curious of the human their master had taken interest in. Soon, only three remained—the grinning fox, a tall dark-skinned shinigami, and Ulquiorra.

"I don't think Cap'n Aizen asked ya to come, Green Tears," the fox-faced Soul Reaper jeered. Orihime glanced at him uncomfortably. His narrowed eyes were trained on Ulquiorra, but as she looked, she could have sworn she saw a flash of red in her direction. She looked away quickly, but continued to listen intently. The shinigami's name—what was it again?

_Gin Ichimaru._

Then that meant the other, less talkative Soul Reaper was Kaname Tosen.

She walked among traitors.

"Aizen-sama's orders were to care for her until he had the chance to see her for himself," the Espada replied smoothly.

"Just followin' orders are ya?" Gin sneered, the sarcasm palpable in his playful tone. "What'sa matter? Don't trust us enough to take her there safe 'n sound?" She sensed him fall behind, closer to Ulquiorra now. Orihime grabbed at the top of her skirt, mentally telling herself not to turn around. There was an immediate aura around Ichimaru that Orihime did not trust.

_Don't be stupid. Ulquiorra can take care of himself. And why do you care anyway?_

There was a long drawn-out pause, in which Ichimaru realized that Ulquiorra was not going to rise to his bait.

"Ah, yer no fun," the silver fox said disappointedly. "Even when ya were a lil Menos, ya weren't no fun—prob'ly the worst o' any of 'em 'sides Grimmy. Took us a really long while to capture 'im, didn' it Tosen? Funny how y'all aren't even the most powerful. Heck, Uno was the easiest to catch—all 'e did was sit there n' sleep."

Ichimaru snickered.

"But ya prob'ly don' even remember any o' that, do ya, Green Tears?"

_That's right, _Orihime remembered from Captain Hitsugaya's conversation. The Arrancar once weren't as powerful as they were now. Aizen had done something to them, given them the ability to wield zanpakouto; something only Soul Reapers were only able to do at one point. _He wasn't always a Vasto Lorde. What kind of Menos Grande was he, then, before he was turned?_

Orihime proceeded to imagine all manners of Hollow-beasts, taking from her own experience as much as she did from imagination. His mask—had horns and armor plates. The way his eyes gleamed in the dark, slit-pupiled. Maybe a snake? He was very cold, but snakes reminded her more of someone like Ichimaru rather than Ulquiorra. A lizard-beast? Perhaps… but somehow a constantly flicking tongue and Ulquiorra just—didn't—match up.

A dragon! Orihime had to suppress a snort of laughter.

What was wrong with her? Didn't she realize where she was headed?

The double doors to the throne room were larger than the rest, and once Orihime drew near, she could sense the reiatsu of Sosuke Aizen—it was enormous, so vast that its presence was nearly suffocating, even though she knew he dampened it for the sake of those around him. Her eyes widened. Icy droplets of fear fell through her stomach. How had he gotten so strong? He was even stronger now than he had been before... how had he gathered so much power in such a short period of time?

He sat despondently on the large white throne, his eyes piercing, as even Ulquiorra's hadn't been. While she felt like a specimen under a microscope whenever the Espada looked at her, here she felt as if Aizen had seen the entirety of her very soul. Still, he was a traitor, not some kind of god—and Orihime refused to bow to him.

"Ulquiorra," he said first, keeping his eyes on her. The voice was deep and kind, but there was something beneath it that spoke of murderous intent. She felt frozen where she stood, unable to move. To be around the shinigami was draining enough as it was. "Well done." The man in the chair straightened, leaned forward so as to better observe. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ulquiorra stir. She had half-expected him to leave, but instead, the fourth Espada made his way to the side of the area, clearly able to see everything within the room, but still out of the way, so that he wouldn't be easily noticed as events transpired. If Aizen himself traced the movement, he did not comment on it.

Both Ichimaru and Tosen stood on either side of the throne—like celestial guardians for their master. On the opposite side of Ulquiorra stood a tall, thin Arrancar with violet eyes, and very feminine in appearance. His sleek, dark hair lay plastered against his battered face, and he was slightly bent over in pain. The fragments of his mask were chipped, and Orihime could see the number 6 tattooed on his partially exposed stomach. Despite the fact that he was a Hollow, she felt an ounce of pity for the poor man - wondered who had wounded him so badly. Would she be asked to heal him?

Beside the violet-eyed Hollow, but farther away, stood an Arrancar with a single arm. His figure was entirely different from the Arrancar with dark hair—where he hunched beaten and bloodied, the one-armed Hollow stood tall and arrogant. His eyes were a brilliant cyan, and the long fingers of his right hand combed lazily through a shock of cerulean hair. He noticed her looking over at him and smirked evilly, his white teeth pearly and his canines oddly sharp. His mask obscured the lower right half of his face, in a long trailing piece of jawbone that accentuated his gleaming teeth.

"Grimmjow Jeagerjaques," the shinigami called quietly, seemingly kind. The blue-haired Hollow strode forward obediently, his steps wide and indolent. Grimmjow acted like a tamed lion before its master, darting glances to Aizen, as well as any other living being in the room. She felt a strong sense of uneasiness looking at him - where Ulquiorra had been unpredictable to her, this Arrancar seemed far more likely to be prone to violence. Orihime looked closely at his missing arm, suddenly fully aware of what she was going to be asked to do.

As if he had read her thoughts, Aizen leaned forward, and all eyes rested on him once more.

"Orihime," he said gently enough, but his eyes were arctic and sharp. "Would you please heal his arm? I should very much like to see your abilities firsthand." Her distrust of him was automatic, but she imagined that had she not known him for what he was, she surely would have found him enchanting. She imagined that he had been a very believable fraud during his days at Soul Society, before he had betrayed everyone. The thought was sickening.

And then, there was the task he had asked of her.

She looked at Grimmjow.

He looked at her, his expression clearly disbelieving. He obviously didn't believe she could do it. Orihime pursed her lips, wanting to prove him wrong, to show them all that she wasn't just a frightened school girl in over her head. For Ichigo, Tatsuki, Chad, Uryuu, everyone... she would show them. But still...

_His arm?_

Orihime gulped—she'd had experience mending badly injured arms, but to completely regenerate a new one? She looked up into the face of the arrogant Arrancar, suddenly hesitant.

_Could_ she do it?

_It will take a great deal of power to do what he expects of you. You have that power—but if he senses that you do not, or that you are holding back…_

She stole a glance at Ulquiorra, whose eyes were closed. He seemed terribly rigid, unsettled even, but wanting to hide it. He was not calm as he had been when she had seen him. Was it only because he stood in front of Aizen...? Orihime sighed quietly, wanting to see him relaxed again. If she hurried and finished, they could all leave anyway.

_I can do this._

"All right," she breathed, drawing on the familiar warm energy as she moved closer to Grimmjow. Her hands outstretched, the familiar triangular shaped shield appearing over the place where the Arrancar's arm should have been. She closed her eyes, focusing the healing energy with all her willpower.

And slowly, very slowly, a sliver of material dissolved into existence. She heard Grimmjow start in surprise, but kept her focus. If she could just build on that small bit, she would be able to continue. Getting something to form under the shield was the hard part. Especially after the grievous wound had already healed itself. There was something in the wound that was venomous as well - as if something were impeding her progress. It didn't come from Aizen, she realized, but from the blind shinigami standing before the throne. Had he been the one to remove Grimmjow's arm? Was this the way the Soul Reapers treated their minions?

Suddenly she knew why Ulquiorra seemed so nervous.

Eventually, bone, muscles, tendons, all woven together under her command formed underneath the warm orange light. At this point, Grimmjow's face was slack in bewilderment as his newly regenerated arm appeared piece by piece before his very eyes. The fingers were the last to appear, and from the base of the arm to the tip of the fingers—finished at last!

Grimmjow looked at his hand in surprise as the glowing shield dissipated.

"Well done," said Aizen from above them, obviously pleased. She looked back to Grimmjow, whose eyes shifted abruptly to the violet-eyed Arrancar nearby. There was a hungry expression written on the cerulean-haired Arrancar's visage, and he inclined his head briefly in the human girl's direction.

_Was that a 'thank you'?_

"Heal one more spot," he addressed her; his voice sharp and crisp. With that, he turned, and lifted his short jacket to expose a vicious burn scar on his lower back. She raised the orange shield again, watching in astonishment as a dark, black number six appeared on his tanned skin. The same number she had seen on the beaten Arrancar's stomach. Orihime finished that as well, suddenly fearful.

"What do you think you're doing, Grimmjow?" the petrified voice of the beaten Arrancar suddenly demanded. Orihime glanced sidelong at him, worried for him. The ominous sense she had gotten from the fierce Arrancar intensified. Suddenly, she wished she hadn't healed him - but she had had no choice... The blue-haired Espada grinned mischievously, and then…

…dashed forward.

Orihime stifled a gasp, struggling to maintain her calm demeanor, and from the corner of her eye, she could see Ulquiorra close his eyes, as if in serene acknowledgement. There was a thin coughing sound, and Orihime saw a trickle of blood issue from the corner of the violet-eyed Arrancar's mouth. Grimmjow had used his newly regenerated left arm to impale the beaten man.

"G-Grimmjow, you bastard," the Arrancar wheezed, his light voice weak. Orihime's eyes widened in horror as Grimmjow threw the injured man aside. His thin figure danced in mid-air; he barely managed to land on his feet, hunched and coughing. Orihime looked back at Grimmjow, her eyes pleading. This wasn't right. He was defenseless - she felt the urge to protect him, but her feet couldn't move. A brilliant sphere of red formed in the blue-eyed Espada's hand…

"N—no—!" Orihime cried, but the sound of her voice was drowned out in the explosion that followed. The purple-eyed Arrancar vanished in a flash of dust, and Grimmjow threw his head back and—laughed. Aizen stared down at all of them with a placid smile on his face; as the Espada's rising cackle rang throughout the hall.

"I'm back! My powers are back!" he yelled insanely. "The sixth Espada!" His laughter rose higher still, and Orihime laid a hand over her heart, which was thrumming wildly. She was shocked at what she had seen, and perceived...

"You, of course, will serve willingly, Orihime Inoue?" she heard Aizen ask distantly, as Grimmjow finally took his place at his side. Orihime composed herself, face still colorless, and quickly considered his question. But then, there was nothing to consider. It had been a display of cruelty on all counts, and it showed, that despite Aizen's outward charm, he was unyielding and harsh. She would die here if she did not agree to obey, as Ulquiorra had said, and if her friends tried to rescue her, they would only be walking into a trap.

_They're probably walking into a trap anyway._

If only she could have gone with Kuchiki-san that day!

"Yes, Aizen…sama," she replied fragilely, bowing at the waist. Above, she could all but see him chuckling, satisfied. His plans were coming along perfectly. He had seen proof of her ability, and it would be enough. Aizen turned his attention away from her, and Orihime looked at the floor, speechless.

"Ulquiorra," the traitor shinigami continued. "Please take her back to her quarters. I will send for her in a few days time." She heard Ulquiorra near her, and looked up, her eyes betraying her fear. What sort of place was this, then? Would she ever be able to see her world again?

Glad to be gone from their frightful presence at last, Orihime followed the fourth Espada from the throne room, walking beside him as they passed into the darkened halls of Las Noches. With Ulquiorra ahead of her, despite everything that had happened, she somehow felt secure. She told herself that he wasn't like Grimmjow, who had killed his fellow for a simple change of rank. He wasn't like Aizen, who had smiled at the sight of his minions fighting amongst each other. He had warned her that morning, and had brought her food. Was it because he pitied her? Could a Hollow feel pity? She told herself again and again that the pallid Arrancar was different, that somewhere underneath his cold mask…

…was someone like…

"Why," her voice whispered, bathed in fear. She halted, stumbling, and tried to throw her hand against the wall to steady herself.

It missed.

She felt herself falling, fatigue getting the better of her. Aizen's spiritual pressure was so strong... Soon she would feel the floor under her, and would have to pick herself up again to keep up with her captor. Her heart fluttered quickly. A disgusted feeling of embarrassment swooped through her stomach. He would turn and glare at her, perhaps disappointed.

She closed her eyes, felt something soft pressed against her cheek. Someone had their arms around her. They weren't warm, but they were exceedingly gentle. She opened her eyes, looked into those of luminous green. His face was as expressionless as ever, and it was hard to believe he was the one who had caught her.

He said nothing as she regained her balance and backed away sheepishly.

"I'm sorry," Orihime said hastily. Her hands clasped at her back, and she looked at the floor.

"Come," Ulquiorra ordered quietly. His voice was distant, as if something pressing was on his mind, and she felt a twinge of curiosity to know what it was. The Arrancar turned, his steps light and graceful as always, and continued on. But his pace was noticeably slower.

Something in his demeanor mirrored what was in her heart. He ought to have left her alone with Aizen, but he had stayed. She had caught a glimpse of him in the throne room, and had been surprised to see him disquieted. Had he been worried about her? Why had he seemed so tense? Why did he follow her to the throne room in the first place…?

So many questions…

To top it off, Orihime had no idea where they were going, but somehow she felt it wasn't back to her small section of corridor. Ulquiorra was the one leading the way, fearlessly, for there were only two Hollows roaming these halls that were any threat to him; though of course she did not know it. Walking the halls of Las Noches was something Orihime would never feel comfortable doing, even if she knew this labyrinth by heart.

The scene kept replaying in her mind…

"I healed him… and all he did was turn his power against…" The girl remembered the sixth Espada's mirthless laugh, and shivered, feeling sick. Even though the beaten man was a Hollow, he had been completely defenseless… It hadn't been fair.

"Are you always so cruel to one another?" she asked, grabbing nervously at the fabric of her sweater. Ulquiorra looked at her with a slightly curious light in his eyes.

"If the need arises," he replied calmly. "Luppi was weak. He allowed himself to be weakened by those he ought to have crushed easily, and was then crushed himself by those far stronger than he. An Arrancar within the ranks of the Espada cannot be so lax." He put his hands into his pockets in a nonchalant manner, his voice as indifferent as a machine's. Orihime stared at him, shocked. Was he saying that the Arrancar - Luppi - had deserved his punishment? Just because he had lost a battle?

"He paid for his lack of foresight."

The redhead cringed at his words, the smoothness of his logic—all without any empathy. Disbelieving, she drew breath to speak again.

"You would have done the same if I had been healing you instead of Grimmjow?" she asked, and there was a pleading note in her voice, though she didn't know exactly how it had gotten there. Ulquiorra's pace had slowed even further during the course of the conversation, to allow the human girl to stand beside him as they walked. Now they came to a dead stop, as Orihime had stopped moving. Ulquiorra peered down at her, but his countenance was unreadable.

"Why should I not?"

Orihime glared at him, his expressionless face, and desired nothing more than to slap it.

"What about me, then?" she whispered. "You didn't kill me when I was 'weak'. You only gave me a warning." Even as she said it, she knew she was making assumptions. Still, she stared half-accusingly, as she would an errant child. He blinked once, and for a split second, she thought he might be hesitating, but the shift was fleeting at best.

"You are still alive, Orihime, because you are _useful. _That is the difference between you and Luppi."

"Why did you warn me?" she asked, determined to make him see his flaws. But they were only flaws to her, she realized. To him, they were strengths in this wicked place.

"So that you would show your full power."

"Why did you come with me?"

"You would have preferred me not to come?" he turned her own question against her. Orihime balked at his sudden retort. She glared at him, his listless face that never told her anything about what he was thinking. The answer to his question was on her tongue before she knew it, but Orihime dared not voice it. It would have proven him right.

"That's not… you didn't… didn't answer my—" she stuttered, unsure of why this had made her agitated. But before she could come up with a coherent response, he had resumed walking again, leaving her miserable and irritated as she followed behind him…

* * *

Where are they going? Find out next chappie!

Lawl. Luppi's a dude. Much thanks to Aikachi for clearing that little mistake up. It was a bit hard for me to tell in the anime... XP

Thanks much to all my awesomeness reviewers! I wuffles you!

Once again, I don't own Bleach.


	4. An Oasis

**P . A . T . H . W . A . Y**

**IV**

_An Oasis_

As the two of them wandered along the columned pathways within Las Noches, Orihime began to fall behind again, deep in thought. Questions spun in and out of her head before she had the chance to examine them one by one.

What was it that Aizen was going to have her do? What were his plans? Where were her friends right now? Had Ichigo woken up yet? Did he have any idea where she was? Did he see her note?

_Goodbye, halcyon days._

It hadn't been very descriptive, but Ulquiorra had warned her against outright telling anyone where she was. A knot of guilt formed in her chest, though she knew it was foolish to feel that way. He had allowed her the visit, trusting that she would not try to escape. And she had tried, in roundabout ways, to betray her whereabouts to her friends. Why should that make her feel guilty? She wanted to return home, would do anything for that opportunity. In fact, she told herself, she ought to have been trying to plan her escape at that moment. Instead, she was just looking around the place, enjoying her present company.

So, she supposed, she should feel very guilty. Because her friends were surely looking for her, and, for now, her own mind was at ease. She should feel guilty, because she hadn't asked to see Ichigo that day. Because she should have wanted to see him enough to ask Ulquiorra to let her out again.

Instead, her feelings of guilt were centered around the very person who had kidnapped her. She was guilty, because she felt as though she had betrayed his trust enough to write the note to begin with. And she wouldn't ask him to allow her to see Ichigo, because she didn't want to be left alone again.

_Ulquiorra._

Why had he warned her before the ordeal before Aizen? Why had he come with her? Why had he stayed with her? Why had he seemed so tense? Why was he with her now? Orihime snorted, her brow furrowing. How could one individual—Hollow or not—be so unreadable? Nearly every time he spoke, he sounded as if he hated her, but his actions spoke otherwise.

_Actions speak louder than words._

Orihime sighed. Why was the fourth Espada so confusing? Ichigo was predictable—she could read him easily just by glancing at him.

_Oh, I hope he's okay…_

Ulquiorra hadn't allowed her to see him a second time...

She told herself that she was in the middle of an area he had said wasn't safe, and she didn't want him to leave her alone—here. She looked up, studying his slender figure a small distance ahead. From here, she could see the remnants of his mask, bony and horned, yet just as sleek as he was. They were passing a myriad of dark entrances now, and the hall was expanding gradually, giving it a bloated look. This part of Las Noches held a clammy breeze that came from everywhere and nowhere. It played in the tendrils of her hair, and washed across her face like a winter chill. The silence was eerie…

There was a quiet rustling noise to her right. She stopped suddenly, afraid of the abrupt change in the atmosphere, and whipped her head around to see what it was.

A murky foreboding passage yawned there, the largest of any she had seen yet, or at least it appeared so. It looked empty, innocuous enough, but Orihime envisioned something vicious lurking within its depths. The more she stared, the loftier the cavernous entrance became. It widened sluggishly, and even the sharpest edges of the walls seemed to bend and twist until…

Orihime held her breath, took the tiniest of steps forward. There was a ghostly flutter of white fabric near the floor. Someone was standing just beyond the reach of the light. _Who…?_ The redhead squinted, took another step forward, and caught the merest gleam of white where the being's eyes should have been. She gasped—it was watching her.

"Wh—who's there?" she asked, wanting to step back, but finding that she was unable to even move.

"_Wh—who's there?"_ her own voice echoed, yet the sound came not from the vaulted labyrinth, but from the being in front of her. Orihime peered curiously at the figure, unwilling to step forward to see, but found that she could not distinguish any more than the dim flutter of fabric, and the cadaverous eyes.

"_Come closer, I want to play!"_ the figure said cheerfully, still in Orihime's voice, and to her horror, the human girl found her feet moving of their own accord. They walked stoically towards the dark passage, each step laborious. She would have shrieked in terror, but her voice was gone. Orihime swallowed, her heart beating frantically.

"No! Stop!" she let out a strangled yell, and for a moment, her legs stilled, but were soon forced to amble towards the yawning passage once again.

Without warning, a swift white blur obscured her field of vision entirely, just before a lurid green radiance threw her surroundings into the light. The ominous cavern shrank back to its normal size immediately as the viridian rays entered within it. It took her a few seconds to realize that the white figure in front of her was Ulquiorra. He held a luminescent sphere of Cero outstretched in the palm of his right hand. She peeked around him, but the thing in the corridor was already gone…

Ulquiorra let the green light die in his hand, and whirled, facing her.

"Do not fall behind," he said accusingly. This time, there was a trace of anger in his subdued tone. Orihime lowered her own gaze apologetically—she simply hadn't been paying attention. He had saved her from whatever it was that lurked inside…

_He saved me..._

"I'm sorry," she stuttered, her heart still pounding. "I didn't know—" Ulquiorra didn't allow her to finish, but only continued on, expecting her to follow.

…_that there were Hollows here. _

_Of course there are Hollows here… I'm in Hueco Mundo, walking around with one!_

The labyrinth was continuing to widen, and, she realized, was becoming brighter. As Ulquiorra turned down another corner, she saw, not more winding monotonous corridors, but a wide entrance up ahead. Hardly daring to believe it, Orihime rubbed her eyes with unsure hands. A vast desert was visible just beyond the huge, square doorframe. Even from so far away, she could feel the dry breeze against her skin, and hear the constant rattle of sand against stone. An exit! She smiled—glad at last to see that Hueco Mundo was something more than just a great big dreary castle.

But Ulquiorra did not lead her near the grand entryway. Instead, he chose a side path to the left of the desert; they passed under a decrepit arch that led them into an ancient tunnel, still well lit but musty with the smell of years. Whereas the walls of Las Noches were smooth and marbled, these were cracked, and some of the original blocks of stone were missing, leaving dark crevices in the surface. Orihime ran her hand along the stone, the pitted wall rough underneath her fingertips. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought they were back in her world, exploring some ancient ruin. At any moment, they could come out on the other side, glad to be back under the warm sun—the opposite end of the tunnel was swathed in rays of white, and the smell of the new breeze was intoxicating after so many hours inside the dark castle. She could barely make out two large gargoyles guarding the entrance back on either side—both took the form of identical marble dragons… but their faces were human, and so worn that they might have been centuries old.

Ulquiorra was the first one out of Las Noches. He turned to regard her at last, seemingly telling her that it was all right to venture outside. She strode forward obediently, and as at last the scene unfolded before her eyes, her breath stilled, caught in her throat.

It was a pale forest, stretching for perhaps a few miles before yielding barren desert again. The trees were pure white and blooming, for every so often a gust of wind would blow stray petals from the gnarled branches, throwing them gently about like glimmering diamonds on the wind. And as they brushed the ground at last, each tiny petal would vanish quietly, fading into nothingness. The trunks of the alabaster trees were like ivory, smooth and flawless as if they, too, were carved from marble. Between the thick forests of iridescent glades, Orihime could see what looked like a shallow pool of crystalline water, except that it seemed to glow faintly as no pond or lake on earth ever would. The liquid was clear and still—she could see tiny white Hollow-fish just below the translucent surface. The water gleamed with the pale colors of the atmosphere, and cast spectral rainbows on the sparkling mist floating peacefully above it. The pool was as still as glass; a perfect mirror of the sky above, stained a fiery crimson by the setting sun.

"What is this place?" she asked breathlessly, smiling incredulously at the Hollow who had brought her here. "It's beautiful."

"It is an oasis," he explained. "Hueco Mundo is saturated in spirit energy. Sometimes this energy accumulates in one area." He turned his attention to the pool between the trees, and Orihime followed his gaze to where it lay, pearly in the vanishing sunlight.

"So, you mean that's actually…? Can you drink it?"

"A badly wounded Hollow might in order to stay alive," he answered expressionlessly. "But the content within it is simply not as potent as that within a human soul." Orihime swallowed, remembering the Hollow in the corridor, and how close she had come to seeing that firsthand.

"Come," Ulquiorra ordered, gesturing towards the clearing. This time, Orihime led the way, wondering what it was he had planned for her. He had surely not brought her here just to look at the flower blossoms. She cast her gaze around the place, remembering. The space was nearly as large as the training field she had sparred with Kuchiki-san in. Those sessions in the rocky canyon seemed so distant now, even though she knew she had only been in Hueco Mundo for a few days. Ulquiorra took a position opposite her, but several feet away. She gawked at him, confused.

"Ready yourself," he said quietly. Orihime opened her mouth in protest, but by then, he was already a blur in motion. So fast! She yelped in shock and terror, and automatically raised a shield before he could land a blow. What was he doing? Were they sparring, or had he finally decided to finish her?

_Don't be stupid. You're still 'useful', remember? He just wants a sparring partner._

Some sparring partner.

She was nowhere near as powerful as he was, and she knew it. Nevertheless, she strengthened her shield as strongly as she could. Still, Ulquiorra was smart—maybe she _had_ grown more powerful after all the hours of training she had spent with Kuchiki-san. Could it be possible that she was just as strong as he was? Orihime made a wide-eyed, comical face as he phased nearer.

She didn't want to hurt him!

The swift impact of his hand formed intricate spider web fractures that spread instantaneously across the entire surface of her shield. His pale, pointed fingers penetrated it; Orihime could see the sharp contrast between the frosty skin of his hand and the pale orange of his face outside the cracked barrier. Ulquiorra withdrew, the hole in her defense crumbling even more under the strain. Orihime stared into the green eyes, stained scarlet in the incandescent light. Then, without warning, he phased in behind her. She flinched instinctively. His sharp digits were inches from her neck, and his mouth was near her ear again.

"You are holding back," he pointed out. She was surprised by how even his breath was, even after all that movement. The wind ruffled his dark hair, and some of it brushed against her skin softly. Despite herself, she felt her face grow warm. The mangled triangle faded quickly, its thrumming note leaving nothing but the sound of his whispered voice. "If I had wanted to, I could have shattered it."

"Why didn't you?" she asked him. She felt him move away from her, saw him reenter her line of sight. His gait was lazy, his hands in his pockets again.

"It would neither suit my purposes, nor your purpose here."

"And that is?"

Ulquiorra stopped and gazed at her thoughtfully.

"Your weakness lies not in your ability, but in your willpower on the battlefield," he explained. "You have strength, Orihime, but not the will to use it—lest you harm your enemies." The words were not meant to insult, but Orihime bristled at this comment, her mouth parted while she thought quickly to come up with a sharp-tongued retort. "You only defend at your full capacity if others' lives are at stake."

"How do you even know that?" the redhead blurted.

"I have seen you."

"The day you and that big Menos came?" she asked.

Ulquiorra nodded once.

"Your resolve strengthened when you realized what was about to be done to your friend," he continued. "Here, you may have to defend only yourself. Those within Las Noches are stronger and faster than any attackers you have faced yet. To survive, you will not only need to face them without any doubts, but with skill to match theirs.

"That is why I brought you here."

Orihime gawked at him, astonished. He was actually trying—to help her? Or perhaps, she reasoned, only to keep her safe long enough so that Aizen could use her power for whatever he had planned. Or so that Ulquiorra wouldn't have to watch over her night and day—just so he wouldn't constantly have to be there to scare away any murderous Hollows. But, Orihime thought, he had come out to spar with her himself—and the fourth Espada wasn't one she would picture as being lazy. That in mind, she looked determinedly in his direction, and nodded once.

"All right then," she said, although a trace of her uncertainty bled into her voice. She took up her favorite stance. Ulquiorra closed his green eyes for a moment, slid his hands out of his pockets, and flew forward. Orihime quickly constructed a shield, and watched satisfied as his outstretched hand glanced off of it. He was an enemy now, she told herself, but more than that…

She just didn't want to disappoint him…

He vanished instantly, brought himself to her back. Too fast!—Orihime leaped aside clumsily, her somersaulting roll ending with her kneeling on the smooth earth. Her mind was drawing up ways of trying to slow him down, but he was already above her, and she had to dive aside again. She glared wildly around, and saw him standing where she had been kneeling only seconds before. Orihime grimaced, rubbing her aching side—she had rolled over a pointy rock. Her hair was muffed, her clothes wrinkled and dirty. She imagined she must look like a mess sitting there on the ground. She rose quickly, brushing off her dusty skirt.

"If you cannot generate a new shield fast enough," he said quietly, "manipulate the one you already have." Orihime's brows rose.

_Easy for you to say._

Still, she hadn't thought of that before… and it would provide a far better defense than her stationary triangle, which only protected the front of her.

_But how do I move it?_

She rubbed her elbow thoughtfully. Maybe if she concentrated on different spaces around her at different times? Difficult to do, since she had to focus to keep the shield up anyway. And he moved so fast—she wouldn't be able to keep up even if she managed it. She thought to tell him this, but he was already in motion again, rushing towards her from behind. Orihime threw a shield up, haphazardly, and strengthened it as his hand struck the fiery barrier—hard. She felt herself step backwards, but the shield remained intact. He dashed to her right, and, as if in slow motion, she saw him thrust his hand forward. Orihime grunted in exertion, her hands moving quickly to intercept it, and remarkably, the shield moved along with them.

_Crack._

His strike had fractured the transparent wall. But Orihime was determined not to let it splinter this time—she filled the barrier with energy, and it thickened, the gouge mending slowly. He moved again, appearing in different positions around her so fast that her eye found difficulty tracking him.

_He's testing me to see if I can follow him._

She struggled to keep her eyes locked on his dancing form. In a frenzied blur, he was directly in front of her. She yelled incoherently and leaped back, her shield forming a bright, sparking sunburst between them as his spear-hand struck it. And then, he vanished.

Orihime looked wildly around for him, watching the tranquil oasis. The blossoms in the trees rustled innocently, their petals falling like snow all around her. The sun had dipped low on the horizon; Hueco Mundo's sky was painted a deep amethyst by its fading light. Stars on the opposite end of the heavens were only just awakening. The glade around her seemed to glow with an iridescent light. It was so silent; she could hear her own frantic breath… She couldn't sense him anywhere—he was shielding his reiatsu from her.

There was a rushing noise from above. Orihime's gaze shifted upwards, abruptly; heart skipped a beat as she saw him fall as swiftly as an arrow loosed from its bow. She raised a shield, its thrumming noise betraying its strength, and there was a sharp clash like the sound of metal blades striking one another as he attacked. She tensed, felt her energy drain with the attempt to hold up the shield; and just as she thought it would fail, he leaped away. A graceful somersault brought him to a nearby tree trunk—he knelt there as if frozen in time, neck craned upward to observe her with gleaming cat-like eyes.

She gazed back wearily, breathing heavily. Her body ached with the effort of defending herself against him. He was too strong, she told herself—he had been holding back, had leaped away when he felt her energy drain away. Her knees began to buckle beneath her. Her battered shield flickered like a dying flame. Even if she did manage to defend herself again, she wouldn't ever have the power to help her friends against the real enemy. The path ahead was clear for them—they would have to fight Aizen and his newly created Arrancar. But he was too strong, and she could do nothing…

"Weakness," she heard him breathe.

_What?_

He leaped. She saw his feet leave the tree trunk, saw stray spirit-energy petals follow him a small distance before floating lifeless to the ground and fading away. As he neared her, she managed to throw the barrier between them, her muscles tensed as she braced herself for his strike. He had called her weak… The thought repeated itself in her mind—it made her angry. All those times she had tried to defend her friends, and failed—was it because she wasn't strong enough? Was that the reason Kuchiki-san had left her, even though they had trained for nearly a month for that moment?

_No…_

She had defended her friends the day Ulquiorra and the other Arrancar had come. When no one else was able to stand, it was she who had saved them—just long enough for Ichigo to come.

_You have strength, Orihime, but not the will to use it._

She had been doubtful… was that why he had said she was weak?

Her shield rose to defend her, and it began to mend, even as Ulquiorra tried to break through. He watched in astonishment as it grew brighter and brighter between them. From beyond the shield, she could see him, thought she caught a hint of surprise, just before—

There was a flash of green, and the barrier disintegrated, leaving only a gash in the ground where it had been, and the empty space between Hollow and human. The force of the blast had thrown Orihime to the earth, but Ulquiorra was still standing, his arms folded. He looked neither tired nor particularly impressed. The redhead winced, tried to conjure another shield, but found that she could not. She peered up at him disdainfully.

"I'm _not_ weak!" she yelled defiantly. "You're just a big bully!" She tried to rise, but tripped on an upturned stone and fell on her backside again. "Ow!" Her eyes found his, daring him to laugh—but he only gazed back at her, perplexed and unsmiling.

"You cheated," she accused him, panting. She was surprised at how fatigued she was. It had taken a lot of effort to move the shield like that, let alone strengthen it. "You used your Cero."

"Another Hollow would have done the same," he replied calmly, raising an eyebrow. "And I did not use its full potential." He looked away from her, strode towards the old tunnel, and Orihime felt a twinge of disappointment. She had considered her actions as an accomplishment, another step forward. But he acted as though it were something paltry. Kuchiki-san always complimented her, at least, whenever she did something noteworthy.

She sat morosely on the ground, rubbing her aches and pains from the battle—and mentally berating Ulquiorra for being such an inane jerk. A powerful jerk, but a jerk nonetheless.

"Come, woman," he ordered quietly from the path's entrance, and Orihime rose with a grunt and glared.

"I told you, my name's not woman!" she yelled indignantly, her fists clenched. She felt her face redden, and it only made her angrier. "And I'm not done with you yet!" She was determined to have him say something to her, compliment her in some way. If she had to beat him up to get him to do that, then she told herself she would. In her mind, she called for Tsubaki, but again, he did not answer her. And in any case, she was too tired to summon him now, and she knew it.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared curiously at her for a moment, not quite understanding. She had said he cheated, but he had only used another facet of his many abilities—and then, not even to its full extent, lest he harm her. What was more, she appeared as if she still wanted to fight—but he could sense that she was fatigued. The meeting with Aizen had tired her, and their mock-duel had taxed her even more. She needed to rest and eat, and perhaps clean up as well. Ulquiorra's gaze shifted to her muddied clothes, and then returned to her defiant face.

"Come on, I'm not done!" she called, and her eyes sparkled. She stomped her foot as she said it, once, forcefully. But try as she might, she would not get him to change his mind—of that he was certain.

"We are finished today," he said flatly, as one would remind a child throwing a tantrum. They stared at one another unblinkingly, as if matching wills. Finally, Orihime looked away, her expression reverting to one of—sadness?

What was wrong with this girl?

"We will continue tomorrow," he said, watching her carefully. She did not respond, only drew nearer to the entrance of the tunnel, eyes downcast and sullen. What exactly did she want him to do? Why was she wearing that expression? She walked past, not acknowledging him at all, and continued down the corridor. This time, it was he who quickened his pace to keep up.

The trek back was silent and uneventful. The two of them went side by side, slowly, since Orihime was tired. Every so often, she would glance over at him, but as soon as his eyes met hers, she would look away. As they neared her room, Orihime stopped, perhaps waiting for him to say something.

"Someone will bring you more clothes to wear," he remarked, studying her from head to toe. He saw the color immediately rise in her cheeks. "I suggest you clean yourself up." He watched amusedly as her eyes narrowed.

"Well, good night then," she said scathingly, not looking at him, and with that, she made her way to the bathroom. Ulquiorra left the hallway, wondering what it was she had wanted him to say, or do... why she was so unreadable.

He found that he no longer bothered to wonder why it was he even cared.

The mock-fight had been just as fascinating as he had hoped--wasn't that enough?

* * *

Bwa ha ha! Chapter four… it's a bit shorter than I would have liked… but, moving right along! The story gets more interesting from here, methinks.

Lawl! Please please please review! 3


	5. Promise

**P . A . T . H . W . A . Y**

**V**

_Promise_

Orihime finished her bath, wanting nothing more than to fall on her rudimentary futon and drift off to sleep. It seemed the relaxing warm water hadn't seeped all the aches from her body, but it did help. Only now, she felt extremely tired. She was glad Ulquiorra had the sense to know that she had had enough after the battle—even if she hadn't.

_I called him a bully._

Orihime smiled to herself, sheepishly, wishing she hadn't gotten so angry with him; then realized what she was doing and quickly resumed an aloof expression.

The redhead had procured a long bathrobe from the closet in the large bathroom, and now wore it as she walked to her room. She saw a mass of fabric on her futon in the corner, and edged nearer. It wasn't her uniform—she had left that in the bathroom—nor was it anything she had seen on an Arrancar in Las Noches—it was too dark-colored for that. She squinted closer at it—the light outside was fading, and it made it increasingly difficult to see.

_A kimono?_

Her fingers ran easily over the soft fabric. She held it up to the moonlight, admiringly. The cloth was black, stitched with the designs of crimson lilies near the bottom edges and on the sleeves. It was very beautiful, but it wasn't as if anyone would be seeing her in it. She planned on getting her uniform back the next morning—especially if she expected to spar with Ulquiorra tomorrow. Running around and sweating in a kimono just didn't sound fun, or wise for that matter—she'd ruin the beautiful designs embroidered into it. Upon further inspection, she found that a pair of slippers rested against the wall near her bed.

Was this Ulquiorra's doing? Orihime doubted it, but he _had_ been the one to get her food for the last few days… She found herself blushing, nonetheless.

_All right, since there seems to be nothing else to wear…_

She went to her little entrance, looking for a door handle. It seemed to have no door, but she eventually found that it worked a bit like a screen—it slid out of the wall. Satisfied with her new discovery, she closed it, though there was no visible lock.

_Some prison cell,_ she thought to herself. _I could just walk out any time I wanted—but then the Hollows would get me._

Still, she imagined she would start closing the door at night—it would make her feel more secure at any rate, rather than just having it open for all eyes to see. Even though this was Ulquiorra's hall, she was wary of all who lurked there. Ulquiorra couldn't be there to guard her all the time, as she had discovered with the Hollow in the dark corridor…

With that thought in mind, she quickly put the kimono and slippers on.

At least it was comfortable, she reasoned, looking at her long sleeves. The half-dry strands of her hair lay flat against the fabric—it would have been nice to have a hair clip. She was in the midst of trying to do something with her hair when she heard a knock on her newly acquired door. She brightened at the sound—maybe Ulquiorra had returned with some dinner. Hungrily, she started for the door…

_Hold on, better to be safe than sorry. _

She checked the light outside, now her only mode of telling time. It was late—the moon had already risen, nearly full and pale. Orihime neared the entrance cautiously, and slid the door back into its place inside the wall. Above the threshold, a wickedly grinning face greeted her. Above the slanted eyes, she could see a tousled nest of silver hair.

It was Gin Ichimaru.

She gasped audibly, wishing too late that she hadn't, knowing that it was very rude. But maybe he hadn't noticed…

"Surprised ya, huh?" the tall shinigami chuckled. No such luck, thought Orihime. "S'a nice outfit you got on. Did Green Tears pick that out for ya?" He held a lantern in his hand, and put it nearer to her to have a better look at her kimono. The shifting yellow light threw his face into relief, making him seem even more sinister because it twisted his smile. Orihime looked at him with a mixture of confusion and apprehension dawning across her features, wondering why he had come.

"I—I'm really not c—certain… umm…" she stuttered helplessly, before falling silent. He stared at her for a minute or two, although he might have fallen asleep. It was really hard to tell. Like Ulquiorra, his face was perpetually in the same expression. But unlike Ulquiorra, his eyes were always closed. At least one could tell when the fourth Espada was awake.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, bowing a little at the waist. "Did you need me for something, Ichimaru-san?" Another thought immediately struck her, and it was not for her safety, but for Ulquiorra's. Where was he? Had someone seen them sparring? But then, there wasn't anything wrong with that, was there?

"Nah nah," he said, resuming his chuckle. "Well, in a manner o' speakin'. Ya see, we all figured it was gettin' kinda borin' round here… An' by 'we' I mean 'me'." There was another pregnant pause, and Orihime's brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said cautiously, and there was a tiny quiver of fear in her voice.

_Careful… you aren't talking to an idiot…_

"So, I'm throwin' a lil get-together. Everyone can get ta know ya. Whatcha say? Green Tears can tag along if ya can get 'im ta come." Ichimaru loomed over her, his seemingly friendly smile wide and toothy.

_A party? _

Who on earth would be there? Some of the strange Arrancar she had seen that morning? The Soul Reapers who had defected? Surely not Aizen himself? Orihime gulped. The whole situation seemed troublesome to her. Yet she knew it wasn't wise to anger one of Aizen's direct inferiors. And he had come here himself, which meant he must have an important reason… either that, or he just really wanted to make trouble. What should she do?

"That sounds lovely, Ichimaru-san," she replied nervously, hoping she was making the right decision. "I'd be happy to come." Ichimaru's already broad smile lengthened even further, and Orihime swallowed, apprehensive. What had she gotten herself into?

"Good," he said, his oily voice dripping with satisfaction. "I'll see ya next week then." He turned abruptly, and Orihime watched in shock as the glow from his lantern disappeared down the dreary hall. She blinked once, deciding that the sinister fox-face was once again up to something. She recalled him trying to bait Ulquiorra earlier that day… but was that because he was merely bored, or because he genuinely meant them harm?

Probably both.

_Next week? Couldn't he wait? _

Orihime sat on her little couch in the dark, feeling very vulnerable, watching the open entrance, and wishing Ulquiorra would come so that she could tell him of the ex-captain's impromptu visit. Now that she had accepted Ichimaru's invitation, she knew very much that she didn't want to go alone. Somehow, she expected she would feel much more secure if the fourth Espada were around when the time came—but Ulquiorra would definitely take the ex-captain's visit as a threat. Orihime reasoned this because he had entered the Arrancar's hallway without permission, and their confrontation earlier clearly showed that they were not friends. Would Ulquiorra consent to come with her?

_I hope so…_

A few moments later, her wish was granted. There was a dim light in her doorway, which she half-expected to be Ichimaru returning, but it was only the fourth Espada, carrying what looked like a tray of tea and cookies. He had also brought a duo of candles for her to eat by. The Vasto Lorde set the tray on the small table and stood over her. She waited, wondering how he would react when she told him of the nerve-racking situation.

"You are not hungry?" he asked. The redhead looked up at him, concern painting her features. He watched her carefully.

"Gin Ichimaru came by just now," she explained, and if the news surprised Ulquiorra, he did not show it. "He invited me to a… party… a 'get-together' is what he called it. And he said you can come too. He said it's going to be held next week." She waited for him to say something, to respond in some way, but he did not. "I accepted," she finished lamely, wondering if she could have handled the situation better. He had sprung on her so quickly—it had gotten her flustered. That's probably what the shinigami wanted, anyway.

"It would have been unintelligent on your part to refuse," Ulquiorra replied shortly, much to her surprise. Orihime sighed in relief, and felt a weight she hadn't known had been there lift from her shoulders. She had done the right thing, then.

"Will you come with me?" she asked, almost plaintively. She was foundering in the dark, not knowing where to turn. If she had to go alone, what would happen? She watched nervously as he closed his eyes.

"If you wish."

Relief poured through her, and as she looked at the tray of food, she realized just how hungry she was. She grabbed the first pastry without delay and crammed it into her mouth, the Arrancar's curious stare notwithstanding. In another ten minutes, the plate of food was devoured, and she was drinking her third cup of tea.

Ulquiorra had decided to stay. He sat on the opposite end of the couch, though his eyes never left her. Orihime was beginning to feel disconcerted, since he hadn't spoken the whole time she had been eating. She listened to the flickering candles as she sipped her warm tea, and observed him, studied his appearance closely as she hadn't in nearly a month. The yellow light of the candles flickered in his eyes, and softened his pale face.

He was, she thought, very handsome. Not in the same way that Ichigo was, playful and roguish, but there was a certain smoothness and grace to his pallid features that was attractive. She watched the dancing light play across his porcelain cheeks. The tearstains stood out darkly on his waxen skin, as if he were crying ink. She studied his smooth, dark hair, remembering the feel of it on her face…

_I need to stop that,_ she thought, looking away, and moved to take another sip of her tea.

It was empty.

She set the teacup down with a dull _clack,_ deciding it was time for him to leave. Clearing her throat as a pretense, she gave a little fake yawn.

"Well," she mumbled. "I'm going to—"

—_bed. _

But he was already pouring another cup of tea for her to drink. He had shifted closer to her so that he could reach the teapot. As he leaned over, Ulquiorra was somehow able to pour the drink and look sidelong at her at the same time. She felt her face redden, and decided that the steaming beverage was much more interesting than the person sitting beside her. Was it just she, or had the couch shrunk?

"T-thank you," she suddenly remembered to say. But she did not reach for the cup.

"So, ummm…" she began, trying to think of a topic they could discuss. Her fingers gripped nervously at the cloth of her kimono.

_Kimono!_

"Where did you get this kimono from?" she asked, her voice louder than she meant it to be. "It's very nice." Orihime was poised on the farthermost corner of the couch—if it had lacked an armrest, she would have fallen off seconds ago. Her eyes which had been focused on the smooth porcelain of the teacup, now moved to study the crumbs left on the small plate.

"I would not know," she heard him say quietly, indifferently. "I was not the one who procured it." His voice was so close, but she dared not turn her head to look at him. She felt, rather than saw him less than a foot away. If she glanced at the floor, she could see his sandaled feet, and the edges of his white hakama.

"Oh," her voice became very small.

_Quick, think of something else to say!_

The silence was long and drawn out, and Orihime's mind was once again blank, as it had been the night she had been taken to Hueco Mundo. It was funny how the Espada had that effect on people, she thought. Or perhaps it was just her…

Her heartbeat rang in her ears.

"You are not thirsty?" she heard him murmur, his deep voice silky and calm. It was so different from anyone else's that she knew. Ulquiorra never became flustered, never slurred his speech, never made mistakes. Everything he did was calculated, everything a means to an end. By asking that much, he probably already had her response in his head. But why was he here to begin with, and what would his end be?

"Aren't you?" she returned, wanting to catch him off guard. It seemed as though she fought a war to keep herself from looking at him—and lost. Orihime found herself absentmindedly reaching for the teacup, trapped in his transparent stare. Both hands cupped around it, she tried to bring it to her lips, but realized that his hands were there as well.

Over hers.

They were cool, but firm, while her own trembled underneath. He steadied them, brought both cup and hands to his own lips, and took a quiet sip. If she looked closely, she might have seen him smirking, or perhaps it was only the flickering warm light.

He relinquished both cup and hands, and Orihime, mouth ajar, abruptly pulled the drink away, jolting from her seat on the couch as if she had suddenly realized it were covered in spines.

"IthinkI'mgoingtobednow!" she said too fast, her voice several notes higher than it normally was. She walked quickly to the corner of the room where her futon lay, turned, and watched him seated on the couch. Ulquiorra stood placidly and took up the empty tray and candles, leaving Orihime alone with her teacup in the dark.

* * *

Orihime had fallen asleep immediately after the fourth Espada left her room, and had risen late the next morning wondering if the scenario had been a dream. The innocently gleaming teacup next to her futon told her that it had not. She looked away from it, and buried her face in the soft pillow.

_Oh come on, he just drank some of your tea! Nothing to be crazy about…_

She _had_ asked if he were thirsty.

_So he was just saying, 'yes'?_

No.

_That's enough of that! Think about Ichigo! _

That was right; Ichigo would come soon, and she could forget all about this mess. As soon as she left, she could resume her normal life—Hollow free. Orihime was a prisoner here—she could never forget that—but once she was free she could help her friends fight Aizen and his minions, and they could have peace again. No more fighting, no more injuries, no more worrying. The redhead sighed. It was beginning to become hard to believe that Ulquiorra was counted among those she would have to fight against. She buried her face even deeper into the pillow; her eyes squinted shut.

_He saved my life… _

Because she was 'useful,' she thought. Once she was of no more use, he would not hesitate to dispose of her if his master ordered it. Ulquiorra was loyal to Aizen above all else; Orihime of all people should know that. He was dangerous, not to be trusted. He was a _Menos Grande_ for heaven's sake! A creature born of despairing souls, starving for more.

"He's evil," Orihime mumbled into the pillow, but the words were only audible as a tiny groan. She wished she could go back to sleep, but her mind was already spinning with questions, and her stomach growled.

The human girl sat up slowly, most of the aches after yesterday's duel lost in the night's strangely undisturbed sleep. She must have been getting used to this place, she thought. Or, perhaps it was the added comfort of her closed screen door. Orihime looked merrily out of the window—no nasty Hollows would come to visit her at night now—well, at least not without her knowing.

The redhead glanced around at the entrance—and saw that the door was wide open. Startled, she looked around, and saw Ulquiorra sitting on the couch, near the same spot he had been the night before. She ogled at him blearily, her eyes wide—exactly how long had he been there?

_So much for my foolproof screen door. _

She either slept like a dead tree, or Ulquiorra could be unnaturally quiet when he really wanted to be. Orihime frowned.

"I shut the door for a reason, you know," she chided grumpily, her previous thoughts still fresh in her mind. Orihime stretched and yawned theatrically, her wrinkled kimono sleeves sliding all the way down her pale arms. "I don't want any Menos coming in and deciding to eat my soul when I'm sleeping."

"Your paranoid fears are none of my concern, woman," Ulquiorra responded smoothly, putting careful emphasis on the last word. "This is my hall, and I have told you that no one will harm you here." Orihime bristled at these words, her already awakened temper flaring. How dare he enter without her permission, call her 'woman', and tell her she was being paranoid? And, how dare he act so casual after what had happened the night before?

_What, drinking your tea when you offered it to him?_

As if he didn't know what he was doing! And he had opened her door without permission, and had stared at her for who knew how long as she slept. And now, he had the audacity to tell _her_ off for it! His hall, indeed…

_He could at least knock! _

"What about Ichimaru?" she asked tersely, once again further incensed that he hadn't called her by name.

"That man serves under Aizen-sama. He will not harm you so long as you do not anger him."

"And what if I don't want _you_ in here spying on me while I sleep?" snapped Orihime. Ulquiorra blinked, his expression not shifting in the least, but his eyes gleamed with a different light as they stared into her own.

"You are angry with me," he remarked quietly.

She balked, taken aback by the comment. As with everything else, his words were a statement of fact, but unlike nearly everything else he had said so far, it didn't sound as though he could accomplish something just by saying it. It was honest, and it made Orihime feel guilty. She looked into her lap, regretfully, her fiery temper quenched.

"I'm… just worried about my friends," she said, her eyes distant, knowing that the words were half-true. "I would really like to see them." She heard him sigh, perhaps wistfully.

"Very well."

Excited, she returned her gaze to Ulquiorra, expecting him to reopen one of his portals, but instead she saw that his fingers were pressed against the white of his eye. Orihime stared incredulously at him, wondering what he was about to do as much as she wondered how he could keep both of his eyes perfectly open while touching one. It looked as though he was about to remove a contact lens, but his fingers were spaced too widely apart for that. Suddenly, the digits tightened, not around any lens, but around the eye itself. The human girl made a strangled noise of protest just before the Espada gave a pliant tug.

Orihime pressed a hand to her mouth in mingled horror and shock; her face blanched the color of the wall behind her. The perfect sphere sat flat on his palm, like a deadened glass marble. His lid lay closed over the empty socket.

"What are you doing?!" she exclaimed. "Your poor eye!"

"It will regenerate in time," the Arrancar replied indifferently, his remaining eye widened at her reaction. "I have observed your friends firsthand, on Aizen-sama's orders. This way, I can show you as well." He took the orb between his thumb and fingers, but Orihime looked away, feeling sick.

"Please put it back," she whispered. Ulquiorra tilted his head in confusion, but did not protest. He swiftly put the eye back in its place. Only then did Orihime look back at him, and there was pity written on her features.

"Does Aizen make you do that every time you spy on people for him?" she asked, concern tainting her voice. "It must hurt very badly."

"It is necessary, at times, for Aizen-sama to study important events that I have observed," Ulquiorra explained, still confused. "The eye regenerates, as I have said."

"If you spied on my friends," Orihime said as she offered him a gentle smile. "You don't have to dismember yourself to show me what you saw." Ulquiorra blinked, and her smile broadened.

"Just tell me."

* * *

Ichigo rose from his bed nearly a week later with a jolt, feeling unseen eyes trained on him. The fight with Grimmjow had been draining—more draining than it should have been. His inner Hollow had seen to that—the final moment when he had been frozen, unable to continue, seemed to last forever. He vaguely remembered someone else—someone else had stopped Grimmjow from dealing the final blow… but he couldn't quite place him. Who had it been?

The scene from a month earlier returned from his memories, and suddenly he remembered. The pale, green eyed Arrancar—the one who had watched while his fellow beat the stuffing out of him! Grimmjow had called the other Hollow a 'damned traitor'. It was the only clear sentence he heard through his sorely pounding head.

Ichigo sat up slowly, testing his injuries. His room was darkened, probably for his comfort, but as he rose to his feet, he nearly tripped over a chair with a short, dark-haired girl in it.

"Sit down," Rukia said somberly, and Ichigo gawked at the serious look on her face, as well as the fact that she hadn't told him off for stumbling over her. The carrot-topped shinigami obeyed her, slowly, without a word. Something was amiss.

"Orihime's gone," she explained.

"What?" he asked, disbelieving. Even as he asked it, the words were beginning to sink in. Orihime, his friend, the one who had stood by his side from the very beginning, who worried for him, healed him, made him laugh was…

"She's gone. We sent her here with guards, and when we came back for her, she was missing. The guards were unconscious." A flurry of emotions and thoughts ran through Ichigo's mind, but before he could voice them, Rukia had spoken again. "The guards woke, and told us a Menos Grande was the one who attacked them. They think it took her."

"Where is she?!" Ichigo blurted, his constricted throat finally loosening. Anger and panic writhed like snakes inside of him, made him sit up on the edge of his bed. As soon as Rukia said where to go, he would bolt for the door and find her himself.

"Hueco Mundo," replied Rukia and Ichigo jumped to his feet, looking for Zangetsu. He would run, find Urahara-san; get him to open the portal that would take him there. Then he would find Orihime somehow. "But—no, listen to me idiot! You're going to need help!"

"So, get some Soul Society people over here!" he yelled, waving his arms. Rukia shook her head vigorously.

"I was trying to tell you before you jumped up all of a sudden! Soul Society thinks Orihime left on her own! That she's a traitor!" There was a protracted silence, in which Ichigo mouthed like a fish out of water, his arms spread wide.

"What the _hell_?!" Ichigo cried, exasperated. "You've got to be kidding me! Are you guys just a bunch of freakin' brainless morons, or what?! So _nobody's_ gonna help me go and rescue her, then, is that what I can assume?!"

Rukia summarily kicked him in the shins.

"You've got me and Renji! We're not—" Rukia cleared her throat. "—well, _I'm_ not brainless! But it's going to take some time to—"

"Time we don't have!" shouted Ichigo at the top of his lungs. Rukia looked quizzical at his sudden interruption. "I'll just find her myself—get Chad and Ishida to come with me, find Urahara…"

"You still haven't learned to control your Hollow, yet!" This time it was her turn to interrupt. Ichigo fell silent at the stern expression on her small face. It was an awkward topic. Nevertheless, he bristled, that headstrong glint still in his eyes. "What do you think you're gonna prove, going to Hueco Mundo like that? You can't even stand up to one-armed Grimmjow—how are you gonna take on Hueco Mundo, then?"

That had stung. The red-haired Soul Reaper stared at Rukia, watched as she sighed.

"You need more training," she said, more calmly. "Orihime's going to be all right. If they had wanted to hurt her, they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to kidnap her. So take your time and get stronger, because you're gonna need every ounce of your strength to get through that place alive."

* * *

"You all right there, girlie?" a wizened, reedy voice greeted Orihime as she awakened with a start from her short nap. The redhead sat bolt upright, wishing immediately that she hadn't, for the most recent of her sparring matches with Ulquiorra had left her body aching. Judging by the passing days, it had been two weeks since her arrival—they had gone by easily enough, so much so that she hardly noticed their passing. Each day the human and the Hollow would speak, and then walk to the oasis to duel. Orihime smiled proudly; she was getting better at holding her defense, but still, Tsubaki had yet to heed her call. No matter how many times she defended, eventually Ulquiorra's constant rain of offensive moves would wear her down, and they would have to stop for the day.

She rubbed her sides tiredly, her eyes meeting the hunched form of the servant who brought her food when Ulquiorra wasn't around—a rarity now. His visits had become part of her routine, and while she still knew very little of him, she imagined that she had told him just about everything having to do with herself. Everything except…

_Ichigo._

She had lost all hope of seeing him anytime soon in person, but Ulquiorra had told her of him numerous times as he ventured throughout the dimensions, and so for now, she was satisfied.

"I'm okay, thank you," replied Orihime politely, and the servant finished laying out her lunch. She sat on the futon, having showered that morning, and noticed that there was another kimono on her couch—this one a lovely periwinkle blue. She had been wearing a variety of kimonos during the evenings; but this one seemed slightly nicer—and there was a hairclip to go with it. Strange enough, but it was better than wearing her uniform, which inevitably got filthy after every sparring match. The sweater and skirt were getting pretty worn, she admitted. She would have to find something else to wear soon.

"Where's Ulquiorra?" she asked the servant.

"Don't ask me, girlie," the reedy voice replied. "Dunno where he goes most of the time—keeps to himself usually. He did tell me to pick out somethin' nice for you to wear tonight—I guess you've got plans, then?" An oily drop of apprehension slithered through Orihime's insides, and it was then that she remembered the visit from the devious silver-haired shinigami.

_Ichimaru's party… I completely forgot…_

The old servant wore such a puzzled expression as he took a long look at the human girl that Orihime began to feel uncomfortable.

"Is that so strange?" she broke the silence.

"I just never seen him do anything if wasn't for himself before," the servant mused, more to himself than the girl on the bed. "When he got the job of takin' care of you, I expected him to have me doin' all the work." The wizened Hollow shook his head briefly; bushy gray brows raised, and with his usual shuffling gait he took his leave.

A few minutes later, Orihime was dressed, and enjoying her lunch of onigiri and fruit, seated on the couch. The Menos Grande servant seemed to have a bit more experience in human dining habits than the fourth Espada, she thought, and also perhaps in what humans wore—even if they were a few hundred years out of date, her kimonos were very beautiful. The redhead laughed to herself; in all his visits to her world, had Ulquiorra not bothered to look around at the fashions of the day?

The old Hollow's words echoed in her head. So she could assume that Ulquiorra was normally unbelievably selfish and aloof—not so hard to believe. Still, it was interesting to get another's perspective. Could it be altogether possible that her stay in Hueco Mundo had changed him?

_Wait a minute. Maybe I'm thinking about this too much…_

The two weeks that she had been here had made her complacent, she decided. Beautiful kimonos, good food, and interesting company aside, she was still a prisoner. And he had gotten used to her—befriended her so that she would be more willing to stay and cooperate. That's what she kept telling herself, anyway.

"Aizen-sama has set your meeting with him in three weeks' time," a familiar deep voice intoned. Orihime jumped—she'd been playing with her silver bracelet for a few minutes now, and hadn't noticed Ulquiorra's entrance. He stood in the doorframe, as he had for many days previous, and simply observed her before coming nearer. While his appearance had once unnerved her, now it cheered her, though she did not realize it. His ghostly figure slid towards her, and Orihime marveled at how quiet he was.

"Why so far away? Why not sooner?" she asked him as he studied the kimono folded beside her. He picked up the hairpin and spun it between his long fingers. It gleamed golden in the waxing sunlight.

"He is making preparations for the war to come."

Orihime tensed, envisioning her friends caught in battle—perhaps with Ulquiorra as their enemy. The thought sickened her, made her look at the Espada standing in her room with a mixture of worry for his safety and fear of his powers. What if they killed each other?

"Ulquiorra," she said, and the tone in her voice immediately brought his eyes to hers. "Will you be fighting, too?" He seemed to take his time thinking, as if pondering over how best to answer. And in that moment, Orihime decided that she did not care if the Espada was only befriending her to gain her cooperation.

It didn't matter.

"If Aizen-sama demands it, I do not have a choice."

"I see," she said, and then stood up. For the first time, Ulquiorra was the one who took a tiny step back—the smallest of movements, but the clear resolve in her sapphire orbs had warranted it. "Then, I want to ask something of you, Ulquiorra Schiffer."

He nodded once, slowly, his attention solely on the girl standing stalwart before him.

"I don't want any of my friends to die," she began softly, though her voice was unwavering. "So please don't kill anyone. And…" She paused, looked away from him for a moment. Her eyes studied the pale blue kimono, the golden hairclip that he had just set back in its place.

"If you're up against someone stronger than you are, promise me you won't get killed." She looked back at him, his expressionless visage rendered soft in the afternoon rays. Not expressionless, she realized. Dumbfounded. She had observed him long enough now to know. Seemingly at a loss for words, he nodded once again, and Orihime smiled playfully and clasped her hands at her back, her determined look washed away by relief.

* * *

This chapter is so long, that I'm afraid I'm going to have to split it into two! Otherwise, this chapter will be like, 298729875 words long, which will look really weird when all the other ones are around 4k. But anyway… enjoy!

I figured I had to do a short little blurb about what Ichigo's up to… hope I didn't completely butcher his character… Lawl. I'm actually a huge Ichi/Ruki fan. Though I don't really feel inspired to do a fanfic on that pairing - right now.

About the kimonos - I'm a sucker for kimonos - so sue me. Not really, please don't.

I love Ichimaru's character, so I'm really glad I found a way to put him in there. He's a real troublemaker in this story... And what's he up to, anyway? Lawl... find out next chappie! XD

I don't own Bleach. Many many many thanks to my loverly reviewers! I heart you all!


	6. Loki

**P . A . T . H . W . A . Y**

**VI**

_Loki_

As the sun went down, Orihime could hear distant noises from deep within Las Noches, and knew it must be Hollows, perhaps hundreds of them, awakening all at once. She kept darting nervous glances at the door, knowing this to be the mischievous shinigami's doing.

Orihime frowned. She expected the 'get-together' would be a wonderful excuse for a large number of Hollows to be deviant in the otherwise drab castle. The human girl had been to many parties in her realm of existence, but they were all fun and light-hearted—set up by friends at school with nothing better to do during their time off. A room full of murderous soul-eaters and bored gods of death sounded more like a trip to hell rather than something fun to do. Especially if it was Gin Ichimaru who had organized it. Orihime had just put on the finishing touches to her hair and kimono when Ulquiorra swept inside. The tenseness in his slender frame made her already apprehensive heart thrum with panic. He stood in the doorframe expectantly, and she walked obediently forward. He stopped her before she stepped into the darkened hall, leaned down to whisper in her ear. She felt his hand grip her shoulder briefly, but it was now a comfort rather than a threat.

"Stay close to me."

_Yes sir_, she nodded acquiescence, since her voice seemed to have flown away all of a sudden. The cacophonous noises outside grew louder all the while. Ulquiorra kept his hand on her shoulder for a few moments more, as if he were about to say something else, but then, perhaps thought better of it. All too soon, his hand withdrew, leaving Orihime feeling very alone. The slender Arrancar was the first beyond the threshold, beckoning her to follow. She leaped to his side, nearly tripping over the edges of her kimono in her rush. She found herself gripping at his sleeve to steady herself, just as a bone-chilling gust of wind ripped through the hallway, and her field of vision was engulfed by pitch black.

Orihime opened her eyes slowly, the velvety darkness pressing on them like a blindfold. It was so quiet, that the very silence itself seemed loud in her ears. She panicked, tried to call out, but it swallowed her voice. It was so cold here, like nothing she had ever felt before. She felt nothing beneath her, her feet rested no longer on solid ground. As though she hung weightless in space…

But she was still _hanging_ there.

It was then that she realized that she still clung to Ulquiorra's arm. He was still beside her, though she couldn't see him. Relief calmed her fear—he would guide her through this, she thought. She had faith in him.

There was a voice above her. His, she realized, just before a flash of green light chased the shadows away and a long piercing howl emanated from all around her, like the harsh noise of hurricane winds, or the sound of many voices raised in fright all at once. The light hit her eyes, momentarily blinding because the darkness before had been so complete. She glanced up, and her face drained of all color at what her eyes perceived.

Hundreds of white masks spun around them, in a vortex of cloaked shade, like the eye of a tornado. Each face was similar—long noses and grinning mouths set in disks of alabaster. The eyes did not shine, but she could feel their gazes on her nonetheless. They slid and slithered around one another, masks becoming distorted as they squeezed against the wall of the cramped corridor.

Ulquiorra read the many faces whirling around them, his eyes flicking to and fro between each. Suddenly one of them ceased its route around them, withdrawing from the vortex as if it were stepping from the surface of a dark river. Its body hit the floor with a resounding thud, and it hunched over while the others watched from behind it. Its enormous grinning face leaned closer to have a better look at Orihime, completely ignoring the Vasto Lorde she clung to. She saw its crescent maw open, the marble bricks of teeth parting as if to grant her entrance. Its skull-like eyes were fixed solely on her.

"You are not permitted here," Ulquiorra said loudly, and the Hollow turned its attention to him instead. The dark sockets of its bone-hued mask glinted ravenously. Orihime shivered, involuntarily clutching more tightly at Ulquiorra's arm.

"Leave this place."

The Hollow bent down, its deathly rancid breath wafting through their hair. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed, and his right hand pulsed with unused Cero as he lifted it towards the intruding Gillian. It arched its back like a feral cat, its mask withdrawing, and swiftly leaped up. She watched as its form vanished through the ceiling. As if on cue, the vortex dissolved chaotically, the Gillian within scattering like rats. Orihime heard the sound of her own quickened breath in the following quiet, her face still pressed to the Arrancar's sleeve.

She had never seen that many Gillian in one place before… hadn't known that many even _existed_…

"Orihime," she heard Ulquiorra say softly. She looked up into the viridian eyes, and straightened, smoothed her kimono with her free hand. She knew she must be as white as a sheet after all of that, but decided that she wouldn't let the fourth Espada know how frightened she'd been. He gazed at her as if expecting her to crumble at any moment.

"Let's go," she told him determinedly, though she still kept a tight grip on his arm. At her insistence, Ulquiorra glided forward, with Orihime beside him, both wary of more stray Hollows. If that was the greeting she got just by merely walking out the door, it was nothing compared to what awaited her ahead, she thought. They hurried like lost spirits in the monster-filled castle.

"I guess this whole thing's got everyone excited, huh?" she asked, trying to lighten the deadly ominous mood.

"That man must have awakened them," he replied stoically, every so often glancing up at the vaulted ceiling. "Aizen-sama will not be pleased with his actions—nor my carelessness, had I not been there to defend you." Orihime swallowed hard, thinking of the implications of that statement. If she hadn't taken hold of his arm…

"They would have—?" she began tentatively.

"Gillian are not intelligent creatures," he said, studying the space above him with a practiced eye. Orihime started to wonder what exactly he was looking at, but did not have the courage as of yet to look there herself. "They understand simple orders only, and are always hungry. They would not restrain themselves when presented with sustenance merely based on verbal command."

_In other words, I'm a sitting duck without Ulquiorra around._

They entered a grand room with many doors, as vast and empty as a cathedral. She felt a chill run down her spine, and, finally tracing the Arrancar's gaze upward, her eyes fell upon the ceiling.

It was moving.

There had to be thousands of Gillian there; the ceiling was raised so high above them, and the room was so large and vacant, that it couldn't have been any other way. She saw many of them break from the main fluid stream, and wriggle like giant black worms near the pair below before resuming their place in the seething mass. Orihime gripped Ulquiorra's arm even more tightly—he glanced at her, perhaps to make sure she was all right. If he were human, she imagined that he would be complaining of loss of circulation by now.

_That's what Ichigo would do, at any rate._

They chose the middle door; walked farther down the hall, and came to a great double-door, not unlike Aizen's throne room. It was closed, but as they neared the portal, Orihime could hear voices and raucous noises on the other side. They stopped together, both staring at the door, and then at one another.

"Stay close, right?" Orihime asked, feigning a hesitant smile.

Ulquiorra placed a hand on the dark marble, and pushed it open.

The scene that greeted them was chaotic. There were tables full of food, strange dishes from lands Orihime was certain she'd never heard of, drinks that ranged in a wide variety of colors—from clear liquid that might have been water to radioactive pink beverages that the more human-like Hollows around one side of the room were guzzling by the bottle-full. The room was not well lit, but torchlights of various hues and magnitudes were scattered all around. And the Hollows themselves—were everywhere.

Some sat idly eating, sleeping, or drinking; while still others flew in mad pathways around the room, tipping over furniture wherever they flew. An Arrancar with bubble-gum pink hair and glasses sat in the middle of a large group, drinking wine and telling jokes—to which all of the others around him laughed and jeered. An old, grizzled Arrancar slept peacefully in a conspicuously empty corner. Orihime cast her gaze around, told herself not to get comfortable. Despite their human appearances, these were Arrancar, and wouldn't hesitate under different circumstances to devour her.

Her attention returned to Ulquiorra, who was peering around warily.

_If circumstances had been different… _

There was a loud crash on the other side of the room.

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques was fighting in the center of a ring of onlookers, against an enormous brute of an Arrancar—the very same who had stood alongside Ulquiorra over a month past. The cerulean-maned Espada landed a final punch just as she noticed the battle, and the enormous Arrancar swayed slowly and fell backwards with a resounding _thud._ The fight was punctuated by a chorus of cheers. She watched nervously from a distance, just before his electric blue eyes fell on the two of them.

"Ulquiorra!" Grimmjow called, and every Hollow nearby looked over at them. Orihime stood tall, wanting to appear stronger than she felt. Gradually, every Hollow in the room fell silent to peer at her. She looked around at all the leering faces, feeling very much like a rabbit in a den of foxes. They all seemed—_jealous_.

_Why?_

"And his pet! The little human girl who managed to impress Aizen a week ago!" Grimmjow sneered at them, and Orihime felt a tiny sting of betrayal. It had been she who healed his arm!

"Tell ya what, girl," the sixth Espada jeered. "Heal up Yammy over here so I can smack him down again! Unless Ulquiorra wants to fight me instead?" She felt the collective gazes shift to the pale Arrancar beside her and discreetly tried to pull away from him, not wanting to appear as though she were clinging to him—which she was, she admitted.

She felt a tug on the back of her sleeve—his fingers were wrapped around the cloth there, unseen.

"I still got a score to settle with you—ain't that right?" The fourth Espada glared at Grimmjow—Orihime could see his muscles tensing. The Arrancar around them stared, hungry expressions etched on their faces. The pink-haired Arrancar snorted, and took a sip of wine.

"Leave off for a minute, and fight me," Grimmjow hissed. "We'll see who's better suited for number four, eh?"

Ulquiorra did not answer, but walked towards a set of chairs slowly, away from Grimmjow, pulling Orihime in his wake. She looked over at the sixth Espada, who glared angrily at her in return…

In the moment she looked away from him, he appeared beside Ulquiorra. The fourth Espada was tense; his hand gripped around the cerulean-haired Espada's fist—which was poised over her head, she realized with a shock. She backed away from them uneasily, Ulquiorra's secure grip on her sleeve lost. The room was deathly still, everyone interested to see what would happen next.

Grimmjow grinned lazily.

"Got your attention now, ain't that right?" he chuckled. Ulquiorra's face was masked by his dark hair, his figure completely still. "What? 'Fraid she can't take a hit?" Grimmjow's eyes shifted to hers, his devious grin spreading across his countenance. In another second he was bent double, and there were startled noises from the crowd.

Ulquiorra had struck him in the chest with his free hand.

There was a long pause—Orihime heard hushed murmurs from the watching Arrancar, just before Grimmjow started laughing.

It started low, nearly too quiet to hear, then rose gradually, mirthless and insane. Orihime remembered the same laugh echoing against the walls of Aizen's throne room, just after the blue-eyed Espada had killed his replacement. She watched Ulquiorra fearfully, knowing he had angered the sixth Espada for her sake.

The sixth Espada rose, wrenched his hand free of Ulquiorra's vice-like grasp. His face was twisted in an expression of mounting hilarity. A droplet of red ran slowly from the corner of his mouth. His arm rested over his heart, and his bouts of laughter were accompanied by a wheezing cough.

"Must've gotten you mad, eh?"

The room was deathly silent now, and in the tense atmosphere, no one noticed the doors open again.

Suddenly, Grimmjow lunged, snarling gutturally, but was stopped before he could get to Ulquiorra by a sudden flash of silver. Orihime flinched at its appearance—it was a long blade, carving the air between the two Arrancar. She followed it to its source, and saw Gin Ichimaru standing amongst the spectators, his cheerful visage strangely conspicuous in the sea of astonished faces. Orihime saw him lift a hand to greet her as her eyes met his. She nodded hesitantly, not knowing what else she should do.

"Y'all ain't s'posed to be fightin' in here," he admonished, as if speaking to errant children. "It's rude. Specially when I ain't here to watch it too." He chuckled, and there were a few hesitant smiles among those nearest to him—everyone, it seemed, was at least _respectful_ towards Gin Ichimaru.

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow stared daggers into one another, Shinso's blade a barrier between them. Then, it retracted, and Ichimaru slid it securely within its sheath. Gradually, the Hollows returned to their previous activities, all save the fourth and sixth Espada, who were still frozen ten feet apart. Orihime waited nervously for something to happen, but they merely stood there, glaring.

She felt a long-fingered hand on her shoulder, and jumped.

"Ha ha, scared ya again," she heard Ichimaru's oily voice whisper from somewhere behind her ear. He slid past her easily, and made his way between the two Arrancar, his arms folded. The blue-haired Espada stiffened at his appearance, but Ulquiorra only stared past him, his eyes still fixed on his opponent. A few other Arrancar around them glanced around to watch, but at warning glances from the silver fox-face, they quickly looked away. Orihime swallowed, her eyes shifting from Ichimaru to Ulquiorra, fearing what the shinigami would do next.

"Ya don't seem ta be enjoyin' yerselves much, Grimmy, Green Tears." He nodded to each Espada in their turn.

"We only just got here," Orihime blurted unexpectedly. All three of them turned to look at her, Grimmjow's and Ichimaru's expression both quizzical. "Grimmjow-san attacked, and S-Schiffer-san was only trying to defend me." Just in time, Orihime remembered to use Ulquiorra's last name, though it sounded strange on her tongue since she hadn't used it nearly at all in the time she'd been here.

Grimmjow glared at her, but she only returned the angry look, feeling perfectly justified in ratting him out since he had called her out in front of all of these Arrancar. _Serves you right._

"S'that so?" Ichimaru smirked incredulously, obviously more disappointed that he had missed the show, rather than actually concerned for Orihime's well being. "Good thing ya got Green Tears to come then." He smirked at Ulquiorra. "Didn' think 'e had it in 'im. Didn' think 'e'd think it was _necessary_." As he put haughty emphasis on the last word, his grin vanished completely, and he drew invisible tear streaks his cheeks with two of his fingers.

Orihime found that she could not suppress a small smile. She'd never heard anyone else mock Ulquiorra before, especially not to his face.

"It was necessary," Ulquiorra said, and in his voice there was a distinct note of anger. "Someone has allowed the Gillian to roam the halls unchecked. She would not have made it here on her own." Orihime paled, her tiny smile vanishing. Ichimaru's squinting eyes suddenly glinted red in the multicolored light of the room, but he swiftly reclaimed his sneering grin, and addressed Grimmjow.

"Ya should know better than ta attack a lady, Grimmy," he chided. "'S rude. Tell ya what? Why don'tcha go take her an' get her a drink, huh? We'll be back soon. Y'all stay here."

* * *

"_Ya sayin' somethin' Green Tears?" Ichimaru asked. "Ya know I watch these halls."_

"_I am merely curious as to why you invited her here," he replied indifferently. "It was not a well-known fact among the Arrancar that a human woman resides in Las Noches. You have told them not only that she is here, but that she is under my care."_

"_She didn' have ta come," the shinigami pointed out. "Ya coulda forced her not to. Or… she coulda come by herself." _

"_If she came at all, she would not have been able to come alone. The Gillian would have devoured her."_

"_Ya coulda sent someone else with her."_

"_She was entrusted to me," Ulquiorra said. _

_Ichimaru laughed._

"_Awfully protective, ain't we?"_

_Ulquiorra said nothing, his face impassive._

"_Ya know, they found out sooner than expected she's been taken here. We're havin' a meetin' later on tonight—her lil friends are comin' to get her._

"_Know what they're sayin', Green Tears?"_

_Again, the fourth Espada was silent. Ichimaru leaned in, leering over at him, his hand resting near the hilt of his zanpakouto. _

"_That it was about three days after ya took her here when they figured it out. There ain't no way, if ya was s'posed to dispose of the guards, that they coulda realized what happened that quick."_

"_They believe her to be a traitor. I have observed them myself."_

_Ichimaru gave a short, barking laugh._

"_S'what Cap'n Aizen says ya did. But I don' think ya had it planned like that then. 'Specially by what I seen jus' by watchin' ya. Ya spend a lot o' time with that girl."_

"_I have been ordered to safeguard her."_

"_Ya were ordered ta kill the guards. Leavin' witnesses alive's a risky business."_

* * *

Orihime pushed the doors open quietly, watching around her for Gillian. After the incident earlier, she would be very wary of whenever she walked out of her little room now—it was lucky that she had tripped on her kimono, and fallen into the fourth Espada.

He had left with Ichimaru, and despite the fact that she knew him to be powerful, she wasn't altogether sure of the shinigami's abilities. He had been with Aizen the day that they had left for Hueco Mundo. All of the Hollows in the room had feared him—even Grimmjow, who obviously was wary of no one unless they were more powerful than he was. Orihime frowned—she had been told to stay in the room, with the blue-haired Espada. But the thought of what Gin Ichimaru was capable of had bothered her enough to come out. She stepped forward, searching for them.

"I have ensured that there is no doubt in their minds that she is a traitor."

_What?_

It was Ulquiorra's voice.

Orihime stepped as close as she dared to the corner, wanting to mask her own reiatsu within the massive energies within the large room.

"I would have gladly disposed of the ryoka, except that he is the one who cares the most for the woman, and is far more likely to gather a group to rescue her. Now that he has come to Hueco Mundo, he can be killed at any moment—I may well do it myself."

Orihime leaned back against the wall, not believing her ears.

Ichigo was here already… but… what was Ulquiorra saying?

_He promised me he wouldn't kill anyone…_

She listened numbly as Ichimaru laughed, not knowing what to think.

"Don' think Grimmy'll be too happy with that. Or the girl, if she sees ya."

"You have only made matters more difficult by spreading the knowledge of her presence here."

"Think of it as extra incentive ta do yer job," sneered Ichimaru. "Keep in mind, I don' like ya. An' I get bored watchin' the same stretch o' hall for hours at a time. With everyone comin' after her now, it'll be an interestin' show. You're jus' gonna have ta spend more time with her… if that's even possible."

Orihime swallowed hard—so that was the reason that Ichimaru had invited her. So that he could watch as Ulquiorra was forced to defend her from Hollows jealous of Aizen's favor. And the fourth Espada…

"I am merely doing so to gain her trust," she heard Ulquiorra's voice. "Once she has restored the Orb of Distortion to its proper state, there will be no more need of her. She possesses interesting powers, but she is still human—Aizen-sama may finish her as he sees fit once her usefulness has run its course."

Orihime felt her heart freeze, running the words over and over in her mind, but not believing they had come from his mouth. It couldn't have been true… They were friends… she had thought of him as she had often thought of Ichigo.

_No more need…? Finish…?_

Orihime slid to the floor, feeling sick. She hugged her knees to herself, willing herself not to cry. After everything he had done for her… was it all just a ruse? His emotionless voice was so deceptive—one couldn't tell whether he was telling the truth or not. He spoke of killing her in the same tone that he spoke of afternoon tea.

_It can't be true… _

"That's awful cold-hearted of ya, Green Tears," Ichimaru said, feigning accusation. "Befriend the poor girl an' then—" He made a small choking noise. "Had that all planned, too, didja?"

"It is a far more effective means of ensuring her cooperation than simply threatening her."

Orihime had heard enough.

She got to her feet swiftly, and silently, her heart strangely numb, but her mind already making escape plans—as she should have been doing from the start. She could come back to her room, and make a run for the oasis when everything had gone quiet. If Ichigo and her friends were on their way from the desert, she wouldn't have long to wait before she met them. If she stayed inside Las Noches, they would have to fight tooth and nail to get to her, but if they didn't have to enter it to begin with…

_I can at least try to make it as easy as possible for them…_

With that in mind, she quietly edged back towards the door, her hand nearing the stone surface—it wouldn't be wise to make a sound now.

She saw it creak before her hand touched the cold marble. Orihime jumped back, her heart racing, as Grimmjow Jeagerjaques stood in the doorframe.

"Hey, woman! You out—?" He looked down, his expression astonished and perplexed. "Whatcha doin' out here?" Orihime stared fearfully up at him, icy panic racing up her spine. She stood as if frozen, and Grimmjow simply gawked at her. She heard padding footsteps behind her, and knew them to belong to Ulquiorra and Ichimaru.

She'd been found out.

The human girl whirled, nearly tripping on her blue kimono. Ichimaru's smile was so wide that it threatened to bisect his face. His fingers lay politely over his mouth; as if he'd said something absolutely foul and was only just now apologizing for it.

And Ulquiorra…

His green eyes lay unblinkingly on her, his mouth parted as if about to say something, but dared not. She glared at him, feeling a sudden unexpected surge of anger. He'd betrayed her all along… and she'd fallen for it. How could she have been so stupid to trust a Hollow? How could she have been so foolish to think…?

Her feet were moving before she realized she had even told them to. She was running haphazardly, as fast as she could away from them, into the shadows, not caring for any Hollows that rested within their depths. Let them try to attack her, she thought. Even without Ulquiorra…

_Without him…_

There was a sudden explosion behind her, and the hall was engulfed in a miasma of red and green light. She stopped, whirled to look. Ulquiorra and Grimmjow had drawn their zanpakouto, and stood, blades interlocked. Grimmjow had been in the way… they stood still in the moment, the silver of their swords gleaming. Ulquiorra's pulsed a faintly toxic green. Orihime's mind and heart raced at the sight of it, and she dashed away, turning down a corner…

* * *

He watched her run, found himself unable to stop her, asked himself how much she had heard, and how much she believed. Everything he had said was supposed to be true—it was what he had told himself time and time again. It had rung true in his own ears—and now that she had found him out, there was only one logical choice that he could make. He had to stop her, bring her back, imprison her…

So why wouldn't his feet move?

_Someone has allowed the Gillian to roam the halls unchecked…_

He leaped forward.

Someone pushed him back, aside, into the wall. The marble splintered beneath him, the stone bending and breaking against his skin. There was a bright bulb of red light near his heart.

He reacted before whoever it was could release the deadly energy. With a blast of his own green Cero, he deflected it, and saw the hall erupt in their combined powers. The dust blinded him, but he heard someone drawing a blade, and so drew his himself. Its argent length dripped with venomous light. He threw himself from the hole formed by his own impact, swung wide at his attacker. His blade met his opponent's in a flurry of golden sparks.

It was Grimmjow.

Ulquiorra pushed forward, trying to get him to move aside. In the distance he saw Orihime pause to stare at them, glance at his sword in fear. She turned and ran out of his line of sight, but he dared not call out for her.

"It's been a while since I seen you draw your sword," laughed Grimmjow. "Musta gotten you real mad, eh? Y'know, if the woman dies, wonder if Aizen'll make me number four, instead?" Ulquiorra glared hatefully at the sixth Espada, willing his blade to break the silver one beneath it. But he was running out of time—

Behind them, he heard Gin Ichimaru laugh delightedly. What a purely fascinating turn of events...

* * *

She ran hard, knowing that if she stopped they would catch her, and in the silence that lay before her, her cheeks had become wet with tears. They flowed down her cheeks silently, telling the tale her heart couldn't accept.

She had considered him a friend in this desolate, dreary place; she had trusted him, had enjoyed his company, and had told him about herself. She had found it a delightful challenge to find out more about him, too.

Had it all been a lie?

_She possesses useful powers… but she is still human…_

Why had she believed she could put her faith in him? Because he had saved her?

_Because I am useful…_

Orihime had been saved so many times—Ichigo had done it, because they were friends, because he cared about her. Had it been foolish of her to attribute Ulquiorra's actions to their 'friendship' as well? Why would he spar with her then? Why would he try to build her strength?

She turned another corner, wanting to lose herself within the labyrinth. It was so quiet; she could hear her own footsteps reverberate many times all around her. It sounded as if a great army followed in her wake. Her breath came in great gasps now. The corridors were monotonous—she hoped one of them would lead her to freedom.

All the days they had walked these halls together… on their way to the oasis. She found herself wondering if he were the only one who knew of its existence—or appreciated its beauty enough to visit it so often. Perhaps he had always known it was there, and only wanted to show her—because he knew she would say it was beautiful. Because it had been his plan all along…

She pressed on, until the corridors grew larger, and a gelid breeze wafted through her clothes and hair. By some miracle of fate, she had found the way out.

She stopped, and rested, leaned against a nearby wall and caught her breath. The great entrance lay open in front of her, the vast desert stretching to eternity. The dry, frigid night winds cut through her clothes, and she hugged herself to keep her arms warm; but she knew her friends waited outside, and the thought of them bolstered her resolve. The human girl rose, and walked outside. The sand dunes lay like frozen waves on a vast white sea. The desert winds howled, great gusts of sand erupting every once in a while, as if it were ocean spray.

Orihime ran, her eyes scanning the horizon. The cold wind, and the soft earth beneath her feet exhilarated her—she felt hopeful. No one had come after her—not Ichimaru, nor Ulquiorra. She could have thanked Grimmjow; he had granted her the time she needed to find a way to escape…

The redhead ran and rested in bursts, eventually having to give up her slippers—she was wearing socks underneath anyway. It was cold, and she often had to stop and warm her hands. She was tired, but knew that her only way was forward—she wouldn't go back, not now that she had made it out of the castle.

The great castle behind her began to diminish. Soon she began to see small creatures—Hollows living off of the supply of spirit energy in the air. Tiny lizards and insects crawling and flying about, each one with its own miniature mask. Orihime found herself laughing—she hadn't known that Hollows could be that small, or harmless for that matter…

There was movement in the sand next to her, as if some great creature that rested underneath the surface had shifted—she resumed her pace.

The movement followed her.

She stopped, shivering; and saw the sand beside her dimple, forming a miniature sinkhole. It was then that she realized how alone she was out here. She could be eaten by some great big beast, and no one would be able to find her.

She waited to see what the creature in the sand would do.

Suddenly, it began to move around her, in a perfect circle, with her in the middle. Orihime stared, transfixed, and then leapt aside, just as something serpentine and covered in bone erupted from the place she had just leaped from. The human girl yelled, quickly generating her shield as it flew down to strike her. Its maw was circular, lipless, and filled with serrated teeth, like those of a shark—it was this she had been standing in, she realized. It chewed savagely on the fiery barrier, attempting to break through—but the shield held. If she could just attack it, maybe it would go away.

_Come on Tsubaki…_

But he was silent. Orihime panicked as the creature relinquished its hold on the shield and dove into the sand again, swam just below the surface. She ran for her life, watching its horrid, worm-like body slither behind her. Suddenly it leapt, and just as she conjured her shield, a white blur rushed in front of the it. Instead of striking her barrier, the creature hit the ground twenty feet away, and writhed there. Then the blur fell from the sky, loosing blasts of green energy as it shot towards the earth. Orihime felt her stomach lurch.

As Ulquiorra hit the creature with blasts of Cero, Orihime let her shield fade, and then ran, knowing there was little chance now that he would fail to catch her.

She was right. The noise behind her swiftly ceased. She saw him beside her just as she ran over the top of the next dune. The sudden dip surprised her—she tripped and rolled down the mountain of sand, feeling dizzy as she got to her feet at the bottom. She quickened her pace angrily, knowing that he had saved her yet again…

She urged herself over the next dune, bedraggled and covered in sand and panting. Her muscles ached from all of the running, and the dry taste of sand in her mouth reminded her of how thirsty she was. It was so cold, she couldn't stop herself from trembling with every breath she took.

She gave up, allowed herself to lie there and rest on the side of the hill. The white sand beneath her could have been made of snow.

The redhead heard footsteps beside her, felt someone's arms lift her up.

"Orihime," she heard him say, his voice calm despite the fact that he had been searching for her for nearly three hours. A hot flash of anger surged through her—she tried to leap away, but his arms would not free her from his embrace. She was helpless, and wished someone—anyone—would be there to save her; but the desert was still, only the two of them underneath the starless sky. The moon sat lonely there, and looked down on them with a calculating eye.

But they were here somewhere—her friends, searching for her…

"Ichigo!" she called desperately, her voice echoing in the vast emptiness. "Ichigo! Help me!" To her astonishment, the Arrancar released her. She stumbled forward, so surprised that she whirled to face him. For the first time since she had seen him, he appeared stricken, his eyes wide, the pupils reduced to thin slits. She gazed at him, the feeling of guilt returning, unwanted. She had never told him about Ichigo, or her feelings towards the shinigami, but the fact was laid bare now. Orihime could see the truth dawning in his green eyes. They looked at one another for a long moment, the freezing desert breeze an invisible barrier between them.

Then she stepped backwards, away from him, and ran.

The desert plains stretched limitlessly before her, but she knew her friends would come soon, would find Las Noches and the path she took away from it. Her legs ached with the prolonged sprint, her throat burning with the cold air that tore through it. She told herself she should have been doing this to begin with, that her own cowardice had held her back. But in her heart, she knew it wasn't true.

_It was him… he's the reason I never tried to escape…_

His lie had held her prisoner.

Was Ulquiorra still standing there where she left him? Or had he returned by now, and given up? Orihime felt the urge to turn and look behind her, but as she glanced over her shoulder, she stumbled on a loose patch of sand, felt herself falling—

Someone behind her caught her; she felt hands strong and firm beneath her. For an instant she thought it was Ichigo, but the mess of black hair that tickled her cheek told her otherwise.

"Stay away from me!" she yelled, suddenly finding the energy to fight. Ulquiorra held her steady, his arms firm, but it only made her want to struggle more. She flailed and kicked him, tried to slap him, jumped off the ground and then let herself hang in his arms, all the while screaming and yelling. But she was cold, and tired, and in the end rested limp against him and sobbed.

The human girl felt herself being lowered to the ground as he knelt, turned her around gently, and held her close. She buried her face in his soft coat, shivering violently because she had been out in a thin kimono for such a long time. She hated him so much, because his body felt so warm to her now.

"You s-said you're only here to gain my t-trust," she said, her voice thick and quavering as she trembled against him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, hugging her to offer her what little warmth he had. She coughed weakly into his chest.

"W-why would you lie to me?" she asked him, her voice breaking. She gripped his surcoat, her own tears hot on her face, and tried once again to push free of him—to run away. But she hadn't found Ichigo; he hadn't come running when she called, and she was so very tired. Ulquiorra's arms were too strong…

She was going back, and there was nothing she could do about it.

The Espada didn't answer, but took his coat off and gently folded it around her. He watched her eyes widen in dismay—he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Orihime opened her mouth to protest, but found that her voice wouldn't come. All the running and fighting had badly exhausted her, and she was so cold that she was just thankful for the jacket's added warmth. She felt herself being lifted from the frigid sand, cradled against his muscled chest. She looked beside her, his black tattoo standing out against the pallor of his skin—number four. And above it, the hole that showed him for what he was.

She reached up and traced its perimeter with a trembling finger; he looked at her in alarm.

The next few minutes were spent watching a confusion of different scenery followed by sudden, dizzying blurs of color and sound. Orihime tried to make sense of where she was, but found that her location was impossible to determine without feeling sick in the process. She thought she saw a grand castle in the distance—Las Noches—grow closer with each pause, but she was so disoriented that she dared not look at it, closed her eyes instead…

* * *

"_Master?" the Hollow servant's wizened voice issued from the entrance of the small room—he had finished cleaning it hours ago, and had walked by just as Ulquiorra had entered the room, shirtless and carrying the human girl in his arms. He had done a double take just as his eyes fell on the two of them._

_Musta been a wild night, he thought. But then, this was Ulquiorra—who didn't have wild nights. That was more to Grimmjow's tastes. _

_Something musta happened…_

_The old man watched as he laid her on the bed with utmost care. She was already wrapped in his coat, but he pulled the thick blankets over her as well. Then the Espada whirled like a cornered animal, his glinting green eyes narrowed, but strangely deep, as if he had taken some injury himself. The servant stepped away from him, unsure—Ulquiorra-sama had never acted that way before. _

_The girl on the bed slept quietly, her face a pallid gray. _

"_Master, you are due for a meeting—" the servant began, feeling obligated to remind him, since it was obvious he had forgotten himself. What had transpired that night was not his business, at any rate. _

"_Help her," the pallid Arrancar interrupted, his voice low and dangerous, and almost—painful. "Now." The wizened Hollow stared disbelievingly at him, and then at the girl. The tone in the Espada's voice had his curiosity piqued now, but he knew better than to ask questions when Ulquiorra was acting so unpredictable. Still, what did he expect the old one to do? The servant knew nothing of healing techniques, or human illnesses—Hollows just didn't get sick. _

"_Master, I'm not really an expert when it comes to—hey, hey!" Ulquiorra glided towards him, snatched him up by the scruff of his robes and dumped him bodily beside the futon. The old Hollow fell on his backside, yelling and cursing incoherently and glaring up at the Espada. "You can't just man-handle me like that—I coulda broke a hip!" _

_Ulquiorra bent down, gripped the old man's already wrinkled robes, and wrenched him to his feet. The small Arrancar swore loudly, rubbing his neck._

"_What in the name of—"_

"_Tell me what is wrong with her," he ordered, his voice loud and demanding. The servant fell silent at the command, balking at the distraught expression on the Espada's face; and without further complaint on his part, the two of them peered over at the red-haired human. The old Hollow pressed a gnarled hand to her forehead. Ulquiorra watched him closely, as though he would attack if the old man did anything wrong. The smaller Arrancar kept glancing over at him nervously. _

"_I think she's got a fever," he muttered after a while, withdrawing his hand. _

_Ulquiorra's gaze shifted to study her pallid countenance closely, his pale face haggard in the moonlight. His normally confident, sleek form was hunched and weary; his powerful hands gripped feebly at his frayed pants. The old man looked at him for a long moment, dumbfounded. _

_In all the time he had spent working under Ulquiorra Schiffer, he had never seen anything quite like this. _

"_What should I do?" the Espada asked quietly, seemingly more to himself than to the old one. _

"_I'll tell ya what you're gonna do," interjected the grizzled man. "You're gonna go and put a shirt on, and attend your meeting like nothin' happened. Then you're gonna come back in here and make sure she stays safe." The Espada stared over at him, his eyes uncertain. Then, slowly, he nodded once._

"_All right," he said, brushing off his wrinkled robes. "I'll take care of her until then. Now you really need to go!"_

_Ulquiorra did not leave at once. He leaned down, carefully smoothed a stray piece of red hair from the sleeping girl's face, hesitantly cupping his hand around her cheek. His eyes closed, his lips brushed hers gently, and then he straightened and left, leaving a dumbstruck old Arrancar in his wake…_

* * *

ZOMG LONGEST CHAPPIE EVERRR! I hope you like it, because it took me forever to write it.

Le squee! Ebil Gin! :D I do love his character so much... but he may not be an evil little miscreant the entire story... we shall see. XP

I don't own Bleach.

I luffles my reviewers! Thankies!


	7. Complexity Over Tea

**P . A . T . H . W . A . Y**

**VII**

_Complexity over Tea_

_In a dimension not far from earth, there lived a young woman with golden hair. Her duties around the spread of houses and complexes in which she spent her days were varied and numerous. She was always busy, whether or not it was necessary for her to be so industrious was uncertain, though every so often the young woman could be seen lounging alongside a windowsill, or an open door, as if expecting something or someone to arrive at any moment. Her peers, however, knew better than to question it, for they halfway knew the answer to start with… yet none dared to mention it, either in her presence, or within the group. _

_It was taboo._

_And so everyone went about their daily lives, training, honing their skills, going on missions; all in general preparation for something great and terrible. There was a war coming closer—each day brought it ever nearer, until the peaceful days spent in the warm sunlight were dwindling. Tempers flared more and more easily—it was said that one of their own rested among the enemy, and the word 'traitor' was whispered so many times in and out of doors that those whose ears were listening began to believe, and question. There was talk of an attempt at rescue at first, but the word 'rescue' was becoming more and more taboo as well. _

_The fair-haired woman listened as well, but half-heartedly, as if thinking about something entirely different all the time. _

_The days rolled by… dawn to dusk, dawn to dusk, again and again. Each day seemed more wearisome than the last for her. The work was long and hard—suddenly it became harder and harder to sit and wait by the windowsill or the open doorway… and wouldn't it be so much easier to rest then after a long day's work? Or to have a drink? Or to practice her skills with sword and arcane art as she ought to have been doing all along? Her visits to these open portals became less and less frequent. _

_But they did not cease._

_And then one day, as if by some freak of chance, a cold wind blew in from the north, bringing with it both fog and mist. It covered the warm sun and the clear blue sky, and all beneath them trembled. _

_All save one._

_At that moment, at the break of dawn, the golden-haired young woman knew, and raced outside to see, a smile dancing on her lips—the endless mountain of things to do forgotten. The field outside was empty save for the dusty, moist wind, and as she watched a single figure appeared on the hilltop. His hair gleamed silver even from this distance, his lean frame shrouded in white cloth. _

_All other ills forgotten, she ran to meet him, like a child seeing someone she had lost long ago. They embraced, for the barest instant happy at last, and proceeded to talk of things neither here nor there, things that in the end were neither necessary nor important, but things that would remain between the two of them above all else._

'_You wanna know somethin' strange I saw, Rangiku-chan?' the silver-haired man asked, his arms folded beneath his head as they lay in the field of long grass and stared up at the waxen sky, pulling random shapes and objects out of the misty clouds for both of them to share and laugh at. _

'_What is it, Gin?' she grinned, glad to have him say anything to her just then._

'_You ever heard—nah, it's stupid… an' prob'ly not true.'_

'_Oh, come on! You wouldn't have mentioned it if you weren't planning on talking about it! Tell me!'_

'_All right, all right. You ever heard of a Hollow an' a human fallin' in love?'_

_The blonde snorted, disbelievingly. _

'_That's crazy. You been drinkin' again, Gin?'_

'_Maybe so. Maybe so. It just occurred to me all o' a sudden… '_

_Rangiku looked across at him, suddenly deadly serious._

'…_when I was havin' that last glass o' wine. '_

_She laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. Gin's smile shone toothy and bright in the misty atmosphere. The sound of her voice was like music to his ears…_

* * *

"_Ulquiorra Schiffer," a deceptively enchanting voice greeted him knowingly. "You wish to see me for something." It hadn't been a question, but a statement. The pale figure stood tall near the empty table, as if he had forgotten what to do after the meeting had finished. But Ulquiorra hadn't forgotten—he just didn't know how to broach the subject. So Aizen had done it for him._

_The pale figure turned his gaze to the relaxed shinigami still seated at the head of the table, his eyes cold but distant, as if he were not really looking at the man in the chair at all. Behind the shinigami, Kaname Tosen and Gin Ichimaru stood at either side of the doorway. Ichimaru's smile was fuller than usual, but otherwise, the two subordinates were silent. Ulquiorra's gaze shifted to the two of them before he nodded slowly, uneasily._

"_About your charge," Aizen continued, grinning kindly, but his sharp eyes studied the Arrancar's every motion precisely._

"_Yes, Aizen-sama," the monotonous voice began, and it was with effort that the pale figure kept his voice indifferent, as the shinigami might have guessed. "I am merely curious as to what you plan to do with her once her purpose is fulfilled." The following silence was tense as Aizen observed his underling carefully—an ally that was usually so efficient and uncomplaining. His sudden queries were surprising to say the least, and perhaps a bit annoying. _

_How strange._

"_Go on," the shinigami murmured sibilantly, as if coaxing a small animal into a trap. _

"_I have observed her abilities carefully," Ulquiorra continued. "They might prove useful in the days to come. Her powers of healing would be invaluable, for example, on the battlefield." At these words, the shinigami leaned forward lazily, a smooth gesture, but one that instilled fear in all but the most determined of those under his gaze. _

_Ulquiorra stood firm, as if he were not threatened at all. _

"_You know, the most wonderful thing about Hollows," Aizen told him smoothly, "is that they regenerate completely on their own. No extra aid required—so long as it is my will that they do so." His warm smile deepened as he put careful emphasis on the last phrase. The aspiring shinigami-king let the silence hang in the air for a moment, curious as to how the Arrancar would respond._

"_Yes Aizen-sama," Ulquiorra nodded, continuing impassively. "But they do so slowly at best, if at all before they are killed." The shinigami leaned back again, perhaps deep in thought. Ulquiorra Schiffer hadn't ever come to him with such questions before; it wasn't in his nature. The fourth Espada was efficient, intelligent, and unyielding—but now… _

_Why, it sounded almost as if the Espada were pleading for the girl's life. _

_But of course, Aizen hadn't said anything as of yet about disposing of her—he had thought it to be an unspoken truth. _

_This was a flaw on Ulquiorra's part—should he deal with the issue now? He had heard from his subordinate of the conflict between the sixth Espada, and the one who stood before him now—who indeed would be better suited for the post?_

_Aizen's smile deepened…_

_No, no… not until the girl had restored the Sphere. The problem could be sorted out then. But for now, Aizen found himself fascinated. What had come over the Espada all of a sudden to make him want to take such desperate action?_

"_Very well, Ulquiorra," Aizen relented, his thoughts hidden behind a perfectly serene mask. "If you are certain you can get her to agree to such service, I shall leave the task of training her for battle in your hands."_

* * *

Orihime woke slowly, her eyes dry and feeling as if they were filled with grit. But then, it was to be expected, after what had happened. She closed her eyes again, wanting to go back to sleep. It was so warm here, and soft. Someone had put a cloth on her forehead, which was nice, because her head was pounding. Somehow she knew that as soon as she moved she would feel very, very sore. The light outside her window bothered her eyes—she turned her head away from it.

"Will you sleep all day again, woman?" a familiar voice greeted her, but the sound of it made her want to scream. She turned her head to look at him, ignoring the discomfort in her eyes. Ulquiorra Schiffer sat cross-legged beside her, leaned against the wall. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he had been asleep as well, but they opened wide again as he realized that she was, indeed, awake. She glared miserably at him. What right had he to be here, watching her as she slept?

"My name isn't 'woman'," she said hoarsely, wishing she hadn't spoken at all. Her throat felt like it had been scoured with sandpaper. She lifted her arm with difficulty and removed the towel from her head, then sat up, feeling both exceedingly sore, and uncomfortably stiff. Her own weakness made her even more frustrated. She irritably pulled back her thick blankets, ignoring the throbbing ache in her forehead, but the action left her unexpectedly drained.

She was still wrapped in his coat.

Her eyes began to water as she remembered the night in the desert. She blinked back tears, irritated that they had come so easily, and began to extricate herself from the bed, but soon gave up, and merely pushed herself back against the wall. She glared at the Espada beside her, daring him to say anything. But he only looked at her with those cold green eyes of his.

She pressed a palm to her brow in an attempt to will her headache away.

"If you are not well, you should rest," he remarked tonelessly. Orihime wished he would just be quiet—it was bad enough that he was in the same room to begin with. But he had already said that the room was his; she didn't have the strength to force him out of it—he had already proven that.

Before, she might have taken the comment as a sign of his concern for her—but she didn't know what to believe anymore. After the things that he had said, how could he expect her to take to heart anything that he told her now? And yet here he was, talking to her as if it had all been a dream. If her body hadn't ached so much, and she hadn't found his coat around her, she might have thought that it had been.

"What makes you think I'll do as Aizen asks of me now?" began Orihime, trying to make her battered voice as cold as possible. She waited expectantly for him to say something, become angry, but he did not. Ulquiorra looked away from her, his countenance expressionless, but his eyes listless and distant. The redhead wondered exactly what he was thinking—whether or not he would answer her question, or come up with some other clever plan to secure her services. The silence between them stretched longer and longer as she waited for him to speak.

There was a shuffling noise, and the clatter of dishes on a tray in the hall. Orihime shifted to look at the entrance—the old Hollow servant had entered with some wet towels, and a teakettle and cups. She wondered for a second why it was that Ulquiorra had not brought tea instead—she'd never seen the two Hollows in the room at the same time. The ancient hunched Hollow seemed slightly surprised that she was awake.

"You do know that as soon as I'm better, I'm just going to try to escape again," she addressed the Espada again, further incensed by his silence, and wanting to goad him into action. "I might even try now." Ulquiorra's gaze returned to hers, and inwardly she smirked, because she had finally gotten his attention. But he still said nothing.

What was wrong with him?

She heard a wheezing laugh from the direction of the old man.

"I wouldn't count on that, girlie, if I were you," the servant said. "He's been sittin' in here for about two days straight, and I don't think he's goin' anywhere anytime soon. Pretty sure he'll be able to stop you if you try it." At these words, Orihime turned back to Ulquiorra, who was still regarding her silently.

_He's been sitting there for that long?_

"So I'm guessing my friends are still alive then," she said tersely, "since you obviously haven't had the time to go and find them." Orihime folded her arms, refusing to believe that he had stayed out of worry for her. She remembered the party—he was probably only here to make sure no one attacked her until she'd done her job.

"They are preparing to enter Hueco Mundo," he replied. "They will be here in a matter of days."

"So I'll be forced to restore whatever it is to its proper state before they arrive," she said, recalling the Espada's conversation with the silver-haired shinigami. "Then what are you planning to do with me?" She asked the question, already knowing the answer, because he had already said it. But she wanted him to be truthful for once; she wanted him to be the one to tell her himself.

"I have spoken with Aizen-sama concerning your abilities," he said, and Orihime stiffened, her eyes narrowing.

"Why can't you just be honest?" she asked, her already strained voice rising. "I heard what you said, Ulquiorra. I just wanted to hear it from you myself. Friends don't lie to each other, in case you didn't already know." She looked away from him, realizing what she had said, and stared into her lap. She wanted to say more, but her next question wouldn't come…

_But then, you never really considered me a friend, did you?_

"Your situation has become more complex," he said quietly.

"I don't see how," Orihime snapped. "Unless you've made it that way. Have you?"

He was silent.

She glared at him, hatefully. In the background, Orihime could hear the old servant pottering around with the dishes. The sound was distracting; it made Orihime think of her growling stomach, and her dry throat. If the old Arrancar's words were true, she'd been asleep for two days with a fever. And during that time, Ulquiorra had stayed by her side…

"Why did you come after me, Ulquiorra?" The question came easily, smoothly, as her questions normally did now. The tone was light, almost cheerful, but there was a melancholy underflow beneath its surface.

"I guess you'd have rather frozen all by your lonesome out in the desert, eh?" piped up the old Arrancar in the background. Orihime turned her attention to the wizened man; surprised that he had been listening in, and also surprised that he knew so much about what had happened.

"I don't see how it would make a difference," she said casually. "Except that if I came back here, I would have to aid the enemy before I died. I was hoping to meet my friends out there, but I guess they haven't even gotten here yet." She paused, curiosity getting the better of her. "How did you know what—?"

"I guessed as much," said the old man. "You only get _that_ sick in one of two places, girlie: Hueco Mundo at night—or the North Pole." He chuckled. "Honestly, though, you don't give Ulquiorra-sama much credit—he was lordin' over me the whole time I was tryin' to take care o' you. It was either 'you ain't doin' it right' or 'that's too hot' or 'what're you doin' you idiot'—"

"That will be all, Yayo," interrupted Ulquiorra. The old man shuffled quickly out of the room, chuckling deeply as he went. Orihime's eyes found Ulquiorra's again, except this time, they were questioning. Had he really been that worried for her, then? It just didn't make sense… There was a long, awkward silence before Orihime spoke again.

"So… um… what did Aizen say after you talked with him?" she asked sheepishly.

"I will tell you while you eat," he said. He observed her as she finished unraveling herself from the blankets and coat and rose to her feet too quickly. Her sore legs shuddered under her, so that she had to grip the wall for support. It was all very embarrassing, she thought dizzily; especially when he was watching her. She should at least be able to _stand_ on her own. So many times, she had tried to appear strong in front of him, knowing that she wasn't.

He rose with her, his form lithe and graceful. She envied him so much for his effortless confidence—he always looked like he knew what he was doing even in the most unsettling of situations. Yet he wasn't like Ichigo, who ran bullheaded into every new challenge—Ulquiorra always sat back and calculated and thought about what he would do next… and his observations were nearly always right. She took a step forward, her strained legs fumbling beneath her… and it occurred to her that he was standing so close to her for a reason.

_He's going to catch me_, was the first thought that ran through her mind.

His body was firm underneath hers, the hands she knew to be so dangerous supporting her trembling frame easily. She felt his coat against her palms—they lay like limp flowers on his chest. When had she become so pale?

When had she begun to trust him to help her time and time again?

"I'm sorry," her lips formed the words before she had even thought to say them.

_Sorry for what?_

For falling into him? For getting angry with him? For running away?

For not trusting him?

"Foolish woman," Orihime heard his soft voice whisper above her, but there was something in his tone that left her speechless. She felt herself being led to the couch at the opposite end of the room, already drowsy even though the walk was so short. She had walked with him many days previous for a much longer distance—it frustrated her that she was becoming tired so easily. He sat down beside her, and where in the past she might have cringed from his contact, now she leaned against him as she rested; she shouldn't fall asleep here, she thought, it was dangerous to sleep next to a Hollow.

_I shouldn't fall asleep here; he'll be worried again…_

But her eyelids were so heavy…

* * *

Ichigo Kurosaki, Uryuu Ishida, and Chad Yasutora—the three of them out on a mission to save a friend at last. They ran across a grassy plain between the dimensions, one all at once familiar, and yet foreign. Every so often a pillar of dusty orange stone would jut from the flattened countryside, telling them that they were making progress. Every step forward was another step towards Orihime Inoue, who was waiting for them—him—to come and take her home.

He quickened his pace; Ishida and Chad moving double-time to catch up. Uryuu might have complained on any other occasion, but not today.

Ichigo had wanted to go ever since he had woken up with Rukia at his bedside—but he had had to train first, to contain his Hollow long enough to summon unparalleled levels of energy… Eleven seconds—it would have to be a series of quick duels then. He wasn't going to wait any longer.

Orihime had waited for him long enough.

He'd already made her wait long enough for him to recuperate. If it weren't for Rukia's insistence, he would have been running to Urahara a long time ago. But she had been right, he admitted to himself grudgingly; if he had gone in that condition to Hueco Mundo, it was doubtful if he would return alive himself, let alone with Orihime at his side.

Her note…

_Goodbye halcyon days…_

Over the past few days, he had spent more and more time thinking about how it had gotten there… it was in her handwriting—and not from a previous visit; she'd never actually been in his room before, for starters. And she'd been kidnapped before anyone realized that it was there. So she had to have written it after she was taken prisoner—but how had she done it?

There were only so many ways one could travel to Hueco Mundo—and unless Orihime had found some magical gate that she could travel through on her own without anyone watching, there was no way she could have done something like that by herself. Heck—he couldn't do something like that by himself; thus the reason they were running to Urahara for help. Because the scraggly-bearded shinigami seemed to have all the answers.

He was smart like that.

The only explanation Rukia could think of was that the Arrancar had let her out. And he was the first one she had come running to… but why, Rukia had asked, had they let her out to begin with?

_Because genius,_ his inner Hollow piped up, _you're walking into a trap._

"Yeah, well, and what if I don't care?! " he yelled, already furious because it was his inner Hollow who was making things so difficult to begin with. It was his fault Ichigo was having trouble keeping up his bankai energy. Every second he had to train to keep Hichigo under control was just another waste of time. If Hichigo hadn't kept him frozen like that when he had been fighting Grimmjow that last time, Ichigo might have won—might have followed the blue-haired Espada back to Hueco Mundo then and there. None of this would have happened…

_Aww… chill out. Your girlfriend can wait. Keep in mind the only reason you're able to produce such power is because I allow you to do it._

"Shut up!"

Ishida and Chad looked sidelong at him, eyebrows raised. Ichigo smiled at the two of them, assuring them both that he wasn't crazy.

His inner Hollow chuckled.

_Says you. You wait 'til we get there and see if what I said ain't true? You can feel it in your bones—and so can I, by the way… _

_Orihime's my friend. I've got to do something…_

Hichigo grunted, and resumed his customary place at the back of his mind, presumably waiting for something more interesting to happen. Which it would, he thought, smirking; Ichigo would make sure of that. He had almost had him with that last duel with the blue-haired guy. If the other green-eyed dude hadn't slipped in at the last minute… But it was all right. The little twerp had to slip up again at some point…

_Don't count on it, cheap shot._

* * *

"Hey girlie," an ancient cracked voice said from somewhere above her head. Someone shifted beneath her, their arm resting around her. Her head lay against something firm and yet soft—every few seconds she would hear a breath taken or loosed; the rhythmic sound threatened to lull her into slumber. If it weren't for the annoying voice over her head, she would already be asleep again.

"Hey, wake up… drink this."

Her eyes opened, the sudden light blinding. She caught a glimpse of a hunched old man in front of her, before closing her eyes to block out the burning sunlight. She supposed it was he that was trying to put something warm into her hands. Tea maybe? She liked tea—or maybe it was hot chocolate. Even better, she thought.

She sat up slowly, half-asleep, but then lay back down again, thinking better of it. She decided that whatever it was the man was trying to get her to drink wasn't much incentive for her to wake—her resting place was far too comfortable. She nuzzled against the firm but soft thing, and heard the breath still for a moment. It was a skip in the rhythm—and it occurred to her that she was leaning against someone very odd—she couldn't even hear a heartbeat…

_Hmmm… weird…_

"Girl!" the old man's voice barked, and then muttered something that she couldn't hear. She could hear shuffling noises growing fainter now. It sounded like whoever it was was farther away. Good, she thought, now she could sleep in peace.

"Orihime," her breathing pillow addressed her softly. The sound of it washed over her ears… It had a deep voice, a proud voice, the tone slid over her name like velvet—she liked the voice, she thought, her lips forming a soft smile. She wanted it to speak again—maybe if she sat here long enough, it would say something else…

"Orihime," the voice repeated, and her smile deepened. Why did this wonderfully pleasant voice sound so familiar to her? She had just spoken with its owner earlier…

It sounded like—

_Ulquiorra_.

"WAUGH!"

She jolted up gasping; her grin vanished. Her dry throat ached in protest; she coughed raucously, and then swiftly opened her eyes and looked beside her. Ulquiorra was staring at her in alarm, and the old Arrancar in front of her—Yayo—had dropped the cup of tea he had been trying to offer her. She looked away, putting her face in her hands in an effort to hide the fact that her cheeks were burning a deeply rosy red.

_I was not just thinking about how nice his voice is_, she convinced herself, _and smiling about it._

"Geez, girl! Give somebody a heart-attack, will ya?!" griped the old man loudly, leaning down to clean up the mess of tea on the floor. The fourth Espada was already pouring her another cup of tea. "You're 'bout as bad as _he_ is—screamin' at random—man-handlin'—crazy nutcases—" He trailed off in a list of expletives and half-attempted insults before shuffling clumsily from the room.

Orihime looked up as Ulquiorra pressed the cup of tea into her palms, and placed his own hands over hers before letting go. He still sat very close to her, she realized. The human girl looked at him, the gesture not helping the rising color creeping up her countenance, and drank the tea. The warm sweet liquid felt like heaven running down her parched throat.

"I guess I must've fallen asleep again," she remarked hesitantly, finishing her tea. Her nervousness made her speak too quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… and maybe I shouldn't have run away to begin with and gotten myself sick… and I really shouldn't have snapped at you like that—I guess I didn't realize you were…" She trailed off, looking down at the porcelain cup in her hands. The memory of that morning came flooding over her again.

…_worried about me…_

Was he? It certainly seemed like it…

_But the things he said… and he's a Hollow… _

How could a Hollow have any concern for a human? It defied the laws of the spiritual world… and yet the old man's words kept coming back to her—when she looked at Ulquiorra, she found that those hard and fast lines were beginning to blur for her. If she ignored what he had said, she could easily still consider him a friend.

"You apologize too much, woman," Ulquiorra replied impassively.

"I guess so," she agreed, not knowing what else to say, but all the while studying him closely. He looked away from her; in the cold sunlight the green tearstains below his softened eyes gave him a despairing expression.

_But he looks so miserable._

Hadn't he always looked like that?

She couldn't remember…

Without knowing what she was doing, Orihime raised a hand to his face, and with one small digit traced the marking that fell from his eye all the way down to his jawbone. Then she touched the other side of his face as well. His skin was so soft, even though she knew it to be invulnerable. He started at her touch, and looked askance at her, his viridian orbs curious.

"Why do you have these, Ulquiorra?" she asked, pretending that the sudden contact was just a pretense for her question. _Which it was_, she thought quickly. "I haven't seen anything like them on the others—well… I guess some of them had markings, but not like yours." She did remember seeing a few splashes of color on the faces of some of them—perhaps an odd triangular shape here and there. Those she had seen, though, were stoic—none of them engendering any sort of emotion at all.

Ulquiorra's looked decidedly sad—an appearance intensified, because he never smiled.

_I wonder if I can get him to,_ she thought, idly.

_Maybe, if he doesn't chop off my head first. _

"I… am not certain," he replied, perhaps a bit troubled because he didn't know. It wasn't like him to not know things—particularly about himself. The question made him feel uncomfortable—or maybe it was simply because she had asked, and he couldn't tell her.

She smiled at him, deciding not to pursue the topic.

_I'll save it for a rainy day._

"So…" she continued awkwardly, changing the subject, "How has my situation become more complex?"

"Aizen-sama believes your regenerative abilities might be useful in battle," he explained. "He has given me permission to train you."

Orihime stared at him, dumbstruck.

_Healing Hollows, so they can fight my friends?_

Orihime stared at him for a few moments, considering—Ulquiorra had probably stuck his neck out pretty far to get Aizen to agree to this—she'd gone from 'disposable' to 'perhaps useful' in a matter of days. But… how could she agree? It was one thing to help Ulquiorra, if he needed it, but quite another to aid those she knew would only be harming those she cared about. She truly would be a traitor then, but more than that, if anything happened to them, she would be inadvertently responsible for it…

_I couldn't do that…_

If she told him she did agree, though, she could be assured of safety before her friends arrived to rescue her. Everyone here would believe that she was on their side, wouldn't think she was an enemy, until her friends came and brought her back home…

But…

_I'd be lying to him. _

_Friends don't lie to each other… I've already said that…_

But if she told him she would not agree, how did she know beyond any shadow of doubt that he wouldn't go and tell Aizen? Then she would be in the same position—forced to restore the Orb before they killed her. And yet somehow she couldn't imagine that the fourth Espada would do something like that—could she?

_Moment of truth…_

"Ulquiorra," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. Her eyes remained trained on her tea—it was so much easier to talk to the innocent porcelain cup than to the fourth most powerful among the enemy ranks. "You know I can't agree to that—I'd be healing people who would only turn around and hurt my friends."

She looked up quickly after she said it, wondering how the Espada would react.

_Maybe that wasn't the most intelligent of decisions…_

But, she realized, she wanted to trust him. She wanted to be given a reason to trust him, wanted to see it for certain. Because he could have only saved her knowing she was useful to his master, he could have only spent time with her to deceive her, and all of those horrible things he had said could have been true…

She waited, her heart thrumming…

"I see," he murmured, acting as if he knew she what she would say all along, and Orihime held her breath.

He rose quietly from beside her, and for a split second, she panicked, thinking he might be going to inform Aizen of her decision—but he only looked back at her, his expression cold and distant. And yet his eyes were wistful as they gazed into hers. Then the Espada turned away again, slowly, and padded closer to the entrance; hung in the doorframe, pausing as if frozen there.

"Then I suppose I have only bought you a little more time."

* * *

OMG I am so freaking sick. I feel like Orihime feels in this chapter. Sorry if things don't flow so well. My head feels like it's filled with moist sponge.

...bob Squarepants.

LoL

Yay for random Gin-ness at the beginning. I was looking for a place to insert it - and this chappie needed extra words. So there ya go. Enjoy! :D

Also, I read on a Spanish online translator that Yayo means Grandpa. Because the other names I picked out didn't sound quite right... XP Yayz.

Thankies SO MUCH for your reviews! :D

I don't own Bleach.


	8. Crimson Forest

**P . A . T . H . W . A . Y**

**VIII**

_Crimson Forest_

Orihime rose from her futon, not knowing how she had gotten there, the next morning. Although she felt better, her throat was still dry, and there were still some aches and pains that refused to go away. The human girl stretched, her shoulders cracking as she lifted her arms. She tried to run her fingers through her tangled hair, but they quickly became firmly stuck somewhere halfway along her scalp.

"Ugh, I feel gross," she groaned. There was a wheezy laugh from nearby.

"You look gross, girlie," Yayo said as he was laying out her breakfast and clothes. Orihime folded her arms indignantly, glaring at the Arrancar.

"I don't remember having asked you, Mr. Yayo," she said as politely as her rising temper would allow—the insult had been unexpected, even if it were probably true.

"Got yer sharp tongue back I see," he chuckled. He shuffled nearer, and Orihime had the chance to study the bundle of cloth more closely. Instead of her usual school uniform, he held a neatly folded white—something—in his gnarled hands. The fabric looked very similar to Ulquiorra's outfit—she watched closely as the old man unfurled it. The dress was full-length, but obviously made to move around in—it was smooth, and thicker around the top. A female Arrancar's uniform, she realized, complete with black sandals and socks. "Ulquiorra-sama says you should wear this—no complaints."

"I'm not wearing that! I told him yesterday—"

"So I guess you'd rather run 'round Las Noches in your birthday suit, hm?" the old man interrupted. "He told me to tell you he knows what you said—whatever that means. I can't half understand you people no matter how much time I spend 'round you." He dumped the uniform on the end of her bed and summarily left without another word. Orihime stared after the old man inquisitively—he certainly seemed more talkative now, even if his temper was a little bit short.

She picked up the bundle of clothes, and got to her feet stiffly, testing her legs. They were still sore, but not nearly so wobbly—she supposed it was the illness that had made them so unsteady, not her run through the desert. Although, the hours of walking or running through the wastes of Hueco Mundo had certainly not helped.

Where was Ulquiorra anyway? She had expected to see him seated on the sofa, or beside her, waiting for her to wake up.

_Then I suppose I have only bought you a little more time._

Orihime looked for him in the vacant doorframe as if he had only just vanished from it, not knowing whether to be elated or apprehensive. The words had been so simple, and yet she found herself repeating them in her head. He wasn't going to inform anyone of her decision—he would keep her secret. She could trust him—he wasn't the same gelid monster she had first seen all those weeks ago—at least, not with her. She hadn't been wrong to think of him as a friend, even if he was loyal to Aizen, and a Hollow. But as she thought more about what he had said, she began to wonder… What would happen to her when that time ran out? What exactly had he meant by 'a little more time'?

She walked clumsily to the bathroom, pondering over the Arrancar's words, but it only made her more frustrated—why couldn't he just explain himself properly?

Orihime walked stiffly back into her little room, the dress she had been given fitted around her body. It was at least comfortable, if not a little thick and heavy, but she felt awkward in it nonetheless—Orihime Inoue was no Arrancar. Even though her warm shower had soothed some of the aches from her muscles, she found she was still a bit sore and tired.

Ulquiorra was reposed languidly on the sofa, waiting for her return. His usually neatly kept surcoat was wrinkled and half-open, exposing his sinuous frame and the upper muscles of his stomach; his hair was unkempt and shaggy. A tiny grin wound its way over her lips—it was the first time she'd seen him looking so relaxed. The Espada looked a little weary—his eyes were closed. But he seemed to perk up when he sensed her presence. As she stepped over the threshold, she saw his gaze travel up her slim form, resting lastly on her face. Despite herself, she felt her cheeks grow hot, and any thought she had given to complaining about her new wardrobe was swiftly washed away.

"Good morning," she said cheerily. "You look like you had a fun night."

Her meal of fruit was still spread out on the little table—grapes and apples. She made her way around to the couch, and quietly sat at a distance from him, her hand reaching for the nearest piece of fruit. He hadn't replied to the remark, so Orihime thought it best not to pursue the subject.

"So… are we going to the oasis today?" she asked, popping a grape into her mouth. "If you're not too tired?" Now that she thought about it, the idea of getting out of this little room for a while seemed wonderful. Besides, she supposed, the fresh air would do her some good—even if she knew she was a little too stiff to train properly.

"You have not completely recovered yet," he pointed out, watching her take a bite out of a particularly large red apple. "And you are to meet with Aizen-sama tomorrow." Orihime swallowed too soon, feeling rough apple scratch her still sore throat. The remark had left her both crestfallen and apprehensive. Her meeting with Aizen, tomorrow already? She was decidedly restless now, and it wouldn't do to stay in this room all day long…

"Can we at least walk around somewhere?" she begged, putting on a winning smile. "What about somewhere new? I'm sure there's lots of neat places we could go…"

"I have told you I am not a gatekeeper, woman."

"Not in my world," she said quickly. "Somewhere new here—I've only been to the oasis and around the castle." She left 'the desert' out, feeling that it would probably be a touchy thing to mention—it was for her, at least, though she couldn't quite place why. Ulquiorra relented, closed his eyes briefly.

"Very well."

* * *

They had taken a different route from her room—the green-eyed Espada leading. Orihime had brought with her two apples, unsure if Ulquiorra would want the second one. She had decided to offer it to him when she brought it along, but was already feeling rather awkward, since she didn't know if the Espada even liked apples. He hadn't eaten anything since she'd seen him, but of course, Arrancar didn't have a need to eat human food—unless they particularly enjoyed it.

_Now I feel really stupid…_

They took a well-lit narrow, serpentine corridor, whose walls were gilded, oddly enough, in what looked like silver. The complex baroque-style designs on the ceilings, doors, and fixtures glimmered in the firelight—every three feet, a pair of torches faced one another on the opposing walls. All of the doors were closed, but Orihime could hear hushed voices behind some of them. She stayed close beside Ulquiorra, having learned her lesson the first time she had fallen behind to examine something.

The corridor ended abruptly in a polished onyx archway leading into what looked like a mirrored antechamber. The room must have been ancient—the mirrors were faded and dirty, their once-transparent surfaces rendered opaque with dust and cobwebs. Ulquiorra placed a hand on the cleanest of the mirrors around them, and the smooth surface slid inside the wall, immediately bathing the chamber in sunlight. Orihime cried out in astonishment—the radiance reflected again and again off the mirrors, illuminating the hallway behind them as well. The silver decorations behind them gleamed and sparkled in kaleidoscopic hues.

Orihime followed him outside, into the warm sunlight, her eyes slowly becoming adjusted to the sudden change. After spending the last few days in semi-darkness, her eyes watered slightly with the brilliance of the outside world. She rubbed them and took a long moment to examine her surroundings.

It looked like a crimson forest, except that the trees here were leafless and enormous—they stood like skyscrapers all around them, ending in abruptly flat tops, like red columns supporting the azure sky. The ground around them was flat and dry, cracks in the hot sand emanating where the earth was not shadowed by the giant pillars above.

"Where are we?" she murmured, awestruck. But before she could ask anything else, she felt a sudden vice-like grip around her, and the scene was lost in a blur of color. She opened her eyes again to find that they were standing in the shadow of a crimson pillar; Ulquiorra was behind her with his back against the smooth scarlet surface, his arms wrapped around her. She heard the sound of hushed voices nearby, and gasped loudly in fright. The voices ceased for a moment; Orihime cupped her free hand over her mouth. The fourth Espada was silent, but the human girl could sense how tense he was.

"Did you hear that?" a low, gravelly voice intoned; the sound sent shivers down her spine, and left the hair standing up on the back of her neck. It was clear, yet echoing, as if the one who said it were somehow underwater. But there was no water in Hueco Mundo, Orihime thought…

"Maybe it was just an animal; I don't sense anything," a second, slightly higher voice this time; but the sound was no less harsh and echoing, as if it too came from underwater. The two voices were different, but so similar that Orihime wondered if they belonged to the same person—but why would one person speak in two different voices?

_If that even is a person…_

"Well you wouldn't would you, Aaroniero?" a slimy, oily voice replied sarcastically; this time it sounded distinctly human. Orihime swallowed hard, hearing padding footsteps come closer. "They aren't here yet, so perhaps we should stop jumping at every last sound we hear, hm? It's getting rather irritating."

"I heard Aizen-sama's put Ulquiorra Schiffer in charge while he leads the invasion force," the higher voice said, chortling. "You going, Nnoitora-san, or staying here?"

"Don't make me laugh," but the oily voice sounded deadly serious. "Of course I'm going, and of course Ulquiorra's going to be in charge—it was partially his plan to start with, wasn't it?" Orihime shifted uncomfortably, but the voice continued. "That's why he's got the easy bit—lying around and taking care of that human, while everyone else has to suffer. Aizen-sama touts him as being intelligent—but I think he's just _lazy_."

"Heard he had a rough time of it recently, though," the lower gravelly tone remarked.

"Well I suppose that's what happens when you send him along with Grimmjow Jeagerjaques," agreed Nnoitora, "and actually expect to get something done. I think Aizen-sama just sent them together to see if they would go at it—odd, yes? Especially if Ulquiorra's supposed to be held in such high esteem." He chuckled quietly. "It certainly makes one wonder…"

Orihime strained her ears to listen, but their voices were already becoming distant. Ulquiorra's hold on her did not loosen. Instead, he flash-stepped again, farther and farther away from the castle until Orihime had to lean against him to stop herself from being sick. The scarlet columns were sparser here, but much larger and less uniform—some of them tilted at odd angles, while others were jagged and rough at the top, as if some giant beast had knocked them askew and broken them.

She felt his arms loosen around her and slowly walk forward, as if lost in thought. Orihime stared at him for a few seconds before running to catch up.

The two Hollows' conversation kept echoing in her head—she remembered the conflict between Grimmjow and Ulquiorra that night, and then the offer he had given her the day before. The conflict had taken place in front of Gin Ichimaru—one of Aizen's direct subordinates; surely Aizen would know about what had transpired from the silver-haired shinigami… and then, if Ulquiorra had come to Aizen not long after 'concerning her abilities'…

_I think Aizen-sama just sent them together to see if they would go at it…_

Was that why he had looked so shabby this morning?

"Ulquiorra," she ventured. "You aren't… in trouble or anything are you?"

He didn't answer.

"Ulquiorra," she repeated, grabbing his wrist. They stopped abruptly, her hand still poised lightly around his arm. His cold green eyes studied the worried expression etched across her features for a long moment before returning to their view of the horizon line.

"It is none of your concern," he said gelidly.

Orihime looked at him sadly; her hand fell softly across his skin, the slim digits curled delicately over the back of his hand.

Realizing what she was doing, she took one of the apples she had brought from her pocket and placed it in his palm. He stared at her quizzically as his fingers closed around it. Her face grew warmer, though she knew it had nothing to do with the sun.

"It's an apple," she explained with a small smile. "I thought I'd bring you one, too." She brought the second apple out of the pocket of her dress, and bit into it, looking at him. He glared at the red fruit as if it had given him a grievous insult, his mouth set in a frown.

"It's really good," Orihime coaxed brightly between mouthfuls of her own snack.

He spent a few more seconds staring at it before taking a tentative bite.

Then he took another.

"Told you," she said happily.

The next few minutes were spent in silence, and while Ulquiorra didn't finish his fruit, Orihime was at least glad she had gotten him to try it. She looked around her determinedly... What else could she get him to do?

_I should try to make him laugh_, she thought.

But how to do it—she was nearly getting to the point now that she almost didn't believe he could; let alone smile. Maybe she should tell a joke? She vaguely remembered a joke she had heard at school once, although she couldn't exactly remember whether it had been funny or not. Orihime just remembered that most people she knew liked jokes—but then, most people she knew were human…

"Ummmm… so, there was this guy…" she began nervously, trying to bring to memory what she had heard. Ulquiorra looked at her curiously, and her face turned red. And suddenly she remembered how bad she was at telling jokes.

_I tried to tell one to Chad, and all he did was stare at me…_

"Are you speaking of the orange-haired shinigami?" he asked quietly, turning his gaze ahead once again. He had taken note of the color in her cheeks and her nervous reaction. Orihime stiffened, horrorstruck. It was the first time that either of them had spoken of Ichigo since the night in the desert.

"No, no!" she said loudly, waving her hands. "I was trying—I was just—I wasn't talking about him at all—I was only trying to—to talk with you." Her countenance was burning a deep magenta. It wasn't exactly what she was trying to do—but he didn't need to know the details…

"I see." The Espada closed his eyes for a moment, leaving Orihime to stare miserably at him.

_Now I've just made things worse… _

"What were you trying to talk with me about?" he continued.

She smiled sheepishly.

_Not trying,_ she thought. _Wanting._

Nevertheless, Orihime felt her spirits lift; she looked around wildly in search of a topic, already obviously flustered. They were walking in a white sandy plain, with nothing but odd-looking red pillars sticking out of the ground.

"What are those?" she said, pointing to the nearest scarlet column. "They look like lipstick that hasn't been used yet."

"Those are pillars, woman."

The redhead gawked at him.

_Well duh._

"I meant, how did they get there?" she said matter-of-factly. "I know they're pillars."

"I do not know," Ulquiorra said after a short pause. "They were here before Aizen-sama built his castle."

"Oh—Well, there's nothing like them in my world," she remarked.

"So I have seen."

The conversation hit a dead end from there. Orihime was beginning to feel frustrated. All she'd done was bore him with things he already knew, and bring to mind again the incident in the desert—which was probably unsettling for him; it left her feeling slightly upset.

_Desperate times call for desperate measures._

"Hey Ulquiorra," she said slyly. He shifted his gaze to her again, vaguely curious at her change in tone.

Orihime stuck out her tongue and wiggled it, pulling at the sides of her mouth for good measure.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened in mild astonishment.

"You should not do that with your face, Orihime; it makes you look foolish."

"That was kinda the…" she said, trailing off.

…_point._

The human girl looked away, crestfallen. She had been right - it was an impossible task.

_Unless…_

Should she tickle him?

She knew herself to be very ticklish… but… Orihime's already red face turned the exact same color as the pillars sticking out of the earth around her.

_I don't think I'm brave enough for that…_

She sighed, her visage finally resuming its normal hue.

Orihime had taken two more steps before realizing he had stopped. She looked around at him. His slim figure stood out against the red giants behind it. He was even more pallid in the sunlight, the shadows that she had seen normally play about his face vanished in the stark luminescence of Hueco Mundo's midday—the green of his eyes and tearstains positively glowed with emerald brilliance. The steadily blowing wind caught in his ebony hair, and fanned it away from his face. Before she realized it, she found that she was staring…

_So is he._

The pillars were really very tall here, she noticed—they looked like some of the skyscrapers in the cities she had once seen on TV.

"Are you well, Orihime?"

"Oh!" she started. "Yes, I'm okay." He was worried about her now, the redhead thought with chagrin. She supposed he should be—she probably looked pretty crazy with all her antics. Her brow furrowed. It hadn't been what she had intended at all…

"I'm sorry, Ulquiorra," she apologized, feeling horrible. "I was just trying to… get you to—you know—" She paused, willing him to use his imagination to fill in the gap, but he only seemed all the more confused.

"…smile…" she continued offhandedly, "and… well—I guess maybe it didn't work out so well—since—" She scratched the back of her head, glancing away. And now she'd gone and said too much; he'd ask her why she would want him to do such a thing. And she would know she couldn't answer; the whole thing would end in another awkward silence. Why did she always have to say too much when it came to these things? And why was she suddenly so self-conscious anyway? He'd probably noticed that, too…

"I guess I'm pretty tired," she remarked by way of excuse. Orihime walked past him in the opposite direction; her eyes were downcast, tracing the lines of the fractures in the dry hard-packed sand. "Maybe we should…" All at once, there was a gust of wind, carrying with it sand and dust. She swayed as it blew in the folds of her long dress, and coughed in the suddenly cloudy air.

"Whoa!" she cried after it subsided, and the air was nearly clear once more. The change had been so abrupt and unnatural that she cast her senses around the area, but found nothing. She turned to the pale Arrancar beside her. "Does stuff like that usually happen around here?"

But Ulquiorra's eyes were trained on something in the distance.

She followed his gaze ahead; where there had once been pillar-scattered wasteland, a gigantic sandstorm blew. The height of it reached just beneath the tops of the scarlet columns. The storm swiftly swallowed up the pillars ahead of them—it was coming closer, fast.

Orihime felt arms around her at once—she was lifted from the ground before she could even get a chance to protest. She looked up at Ulquiorra, whose eyes were still locked on the raging tempest, as if expecting something to jump out of it at any moment.

"Ulquiorra," she called over the sound of sandaled footsteps and howling winds in the distance. "It's okay, you can up me down—I can run just as well as you can—" She glanced at the scarlet earth below them, and then back at the Espada, who wore a perplexed expression. And then a look of dawning comprehension crossed her features—her face grew pale.

He wasn't running on the ground.

"W—aaah!" she yelled incoherently, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Don't put me down! Don't put me down! Don't put me down!" She caught a glimpse of the sandy earth over his shoulder, just as his feet began to lose purchase on the red column.

Orihime gasped, feeling weightless, before both Arrancar and human vanished in a sudden blur…

And then they were moving along another taller pillar, farther up this time. Orihime buried her face in his hair—remembering the dizzying feeling she had gotten in the desert every time he had flash-stepped. It made her feel nauseous. It seemed like an eternity before they made it to the top of the crimson forest. She felt the ground level out beneath her, and lifted her face to look around. The sky all around them was a blinding azure. She peered below them, at the dull yellow ground far beneath. There was no sound save for her quickened breath and the sand tempest grinding away ahead of them. But Ulquiorra still did not release her…

He stepped forwards towards the center of the pillar, just as something large and white erupted from the tempest below. It had the shape of a wolf, save for its feet, which curved viciously to form long scythe-like blades where paws should have been. The creature howled, and the sound was like that of the storm. It leaped easily from column to column, coming nearer all the while. And then there was another beside it, and another farther ahead. She heard scuffling noises at the base of their own pillar—Ulquiorra dashed sideways and leaped, just before yet another wolf-Hollow clambered to the top, stood snarling where they had rested only moments before. Its yellow eyes blazed beneath its canine skull-mask, its white mane flowing wildly in the winds it was creating. As with the Gillian, the beast ignored Ulquiorra, and focused its attention entirely on her. But why wasn't the Espada fighting them as he had then?

Two more creatures leaped on either side of them, both tapping the smooth tops of the pillars they rested on with their scimitar claws. She felt Ulquiorra hold her closer, saw his eyes shifting to each of the trio of creatures around them in turn.

And then a thought struck her…

_He's afraid if he lets me go, one of them will get me…_

But if he kept this up, the other three wolves would come down on them—and they would be fighting six all at once instead of three at a time. She shifted in his arms, and pulled at his coat. His eyes glanced down at her briefly, before resuming their course between the three animals before them. The air around her was stifling and frigid, despite the heat of the sun above. The longer they stood there, the more she had to concentrate on every breath she took, until it was all she could do to stay conscious.

What was going on?

The three wolves had leaped backwards, farther away from them. There was something odd about the way they moved, as if every miniature step forward cost them dearly. The beasts moved stoically now, their black tongues lolling out of their toothy maws. Every so often, one of them would whimper softly. Orihime's own breath came and went in puffs of mist—it had been so warm up here before. She grabbed weakly at the fabric of his coat, and felt the stifling atmosphere around her lessen as the Espada looked at her.

_It's his spiritual pressure_…

It was keeping the Hollows at bay, she realized, but they were persistent if anything. Try as he might to scare them off with what reiatsu he was using, he couldn't quite chase them away without releasing more. But the Espada knew that Orihime couldn't take much more than that from this distance—he was hoping the wolf-Hollows would eventually grow tired of waiting and run off.

"Ulquiorra, you can let me go," she murmured softly. "We can fight them together."

He glanced at her, his eyes unwilling.

"It's okay," she breathed, "you can put me down." She smiled at him, and he sighed resolutely. She felt his spiritual pressure lessen again, and breathed deeply in sweet relief. The sun was hot on her face, and the wind crisp and cool…

As soon as her feet hit the top of the pillar, the wolf nearest to them jumped. Orihime conjured her shield just in time, and felt the beast's weight against it. Her barrier held, both herself and Ulquiorra beneath its warm glow, and before the wolf-Hollow could strike again, Ulquiorra leaped and blasted it with a well-aimed burst of green energy. With an elegant mid-air twist, he landed gracefully on the pillar the creature had vacated.

All at once, the two wolves on either side of them attacked. Orihime watched in awe as Ulquiorra impaled the one on her right with his bare hands. She stopped the one on her left with a simple movement of her orange barricade, just before the Espada dashed in front of it, easily evading its slicing blades. There was another flash of viridian light, and the three immediate beasts were vanquished.

_That just leaves three more…_

They were hanging back, observing the battle and circling like sharks atop the crimson columns. These three were much larger than their counterparts had been, she realized. While the others had been around her height at the shoulder, these were nearly twice that. Their created wind distorted their lean shapes, each pair of eyes resting not only on Orihime, but on Ulquiorra as well. The human remained stationary, while the Hollow who guarded her leaped about in pursuit of those attacking her. If one distracted the Arrancar, and another the strange fiery barrier surrounding the human, a third could take the prize.

Suddenly, the wolf nearest Ulquiorra leaped, its blades outstretched. It opened its mouth and snarled, gusts of wind issuing from its open maw. Orihime felt it buffet her, staggering under its force. The Espada jumped, intent on impaling the beast, and at that precise moment, the other two wolves ran at Orihime from opposite directions…

The human girl froze for an instant, not knowing what to do. She couldn't defend from both sides… one of them would kill her… she wouldn't get to see her friends again… and Ulquiorra—

…_will be sad…_

"Ulquiorra!" she cried desperately.

Her shield had barely formed before a sudden impact shattered it completely. She saw the orange shards of it fall in glimmering pieces around her as if in slow motion. The sky above was the purest of cloudless cerulean blues. She heard the sudden clash of blades somewhere around her, and a low, keening howl that grew softer and softer. Suddenly her view flipped, and she was looking at the ground below her, turning from a distant yellow to a vibrant red. The atmosphere around her turned a brilliant green; she closed her eyes, then heard a dull thud as they hit the ground. Ulquiorra had broken her shield, she realized, and whisked her free of danger. The two wolves collided with one another instead just as they leaped free. He must have thrown more green energy as they fell…

Orihime lay without opening her eyes for several seconds, listening to the silence and thinking about what had happened, before realizing she was on top of him—he had fallen on his back. His body was lean and firm beneath hers, and her head still rested on his shoulder—she could feel his hair on her cheek. Despite his actions, his breath was calm and steady. She panicked—he hadn't made any effort to rise.

Orihime carefully moved off of him, sitting beside him. He didn't seem to be injured, she thought anxiously, only asleep—but Hollows didn't sleep, did they?

_I've never seen him sleep before…_

"Ulquiorra," she said worriedly, sensing his reiatsu—he seemed perfectly all right. Maybe he had only bumped his head—had the Hollows managed to harm him in some way? It had been so close… surely he would wake up soon? Should she try to heal him?

_He doesn't have any wounds…_

Then she would simply have to wait for him to come to. Orihime forced herself to calm down; it never helped anyone to panic in these situations. She watched him carefully, hoping he would wake soon, knowing they would be stranded up here if he did not…

_At least it's warm right now…_

She leaned closer.

Her face was pale and cold with fright but quickly grew warmer as her gaze traveled across his features. Her eyes traced the smooth line of his pale jaw, and studied the tousled strands of his dark hair spread in a wreath around his head. His eyes were closed, as if in uninterrupted slumber—he was neither frowning nor smiling; the emerald tearstains etched across his cheeks darkened beneath the curtain of her hair. Smooth red strands of it tickled his whitewashed visage.

Her heart thrummed in her chest… It occurred to her with a rush of excitement that she was inches away from him, and he was asleep, or unconscious. She noted how peaceful it was here after the battle; the quiet rushing sound of the wind around them only made the atmosphere more serene…

"Ulquiorra?" she murmured, but he did not stir. Orihime gingerly touched his cheek with trembling fingers. The skin felt smooth and soft beneath her hand—the sun had warmed him, and she wondered idly if he would get a tan from being out in it for so long. Her fingers moved, playing with a stray piece of silky raven hair.

_I really shouldn't be doing this… he could wake up any second now…_

She smoothed his jagged bangs away from his eyes gently, her eyes traveling to the piece of broken mask covering half his head. Orihime rapped on it quietly with her knuckles.

"I would have thought that would have actually protected you a little bit," she mused aloud, giggling.

It was so comfortable here—the sun's rays had heated the tops of the smooth scarlet columns as well. Now that he had chased all of the Hollows away, the scene was a picture of perfect tranquility. She felt the warmth seep into her skin from all around; Orihime leaned nearer, and watched for his eyes to open, but they did not. He was so close now; if she didn't take this chance, who knew when it might come around again?

She might be out of Hueco Mundo that afternoon for all she knew…

His breath was steady and soft…

"Thank you for keeping me safe," she whispered, closing her eyes.

She felt her lips brush his softly—they were still sweet with the taste of apples. It occurred to her that she had never kissed anyone before, not like this—she allowed herself a few more moments before he woke. What would he say if he knew? But for some odd reason she felt the kiss deepen; even when she tried to rise, it followed her until she realized that she wasn't leaning over anymore. A firm hand caressed her cheek softly, and she immediately jerked away from the contact, utterly astonished.

"You are quite welcome, woman," she heard him say.

She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Y—you were awake!" she cried, scrambling backwards away from him. "You—you were awake the whole time, and you didn't say anything!" She glared at him accusingly, her mind thrown into a sudden frenzy. There were a million questions she wanted to ask him, but the only words she could think of were the first to fall from her lips. "Why didn't you say something?!"

"I was curious," he stated simply, as if it were something she should already know.

"Y-you're evil!" she yelled, her face burning ruby red. "Why would you trick me like that? If I had known you weren't…" She stopped short, covering her face with her hands and willing herself not to cry. If she had known he wasn't awake, she wouldn't have had the courage to do something so daring—she was never able to do anything while Ichigo was awake, for instance. But it didn't mean that she didn't want to…

He blinked once, as if confused, his deceptively impassive face tilted slightly. The innocuous gesture made her want to slap him.

The human girl scurried up frantically and came to rest near the center of the column top, her heart hammering. She hugged her knees to herself, playing with the ruffled fabric between her fingers and willing herself to calm down. This was Ulquiorra, not Ichigo… And yet even as she thought about the shinigami, she realized that her reaction was simply not the same. Her heart no longer raced when she imagined him, and her face was red, but not because she was thinking of him—it had more to do with the situation at hand. Had she really begun to think of him differently? As perhaps, she pondered in the deepest corner of her mind, only just a friend?—but no… What had she been thinking? And what, she asked herself anxiously, was Ulquiorra thinking? She had allowed herself to assume that all the times he had looked out for her was more than just a means to keep her safe until Aizen was finished with her… but… she had learned that she could trust him, hadn't she? He'd gotten himself in trouble, it seemed, for her.

And it had been a very good kiss…

_Stop that!_

She looked back at the fourth Espada, who was still seated where she had left him, observing her in return. The Hollows he had saved her from had stirred up a natural sandstorm; it flowed in waves and eddies around the tops of the pillars, shielding the earth below from view. The circular caps of the columns were the only things exposed in the expanse of tempest. They might have been floating in a vast brown sea.

He was just as unreadable as always.

Orihime turned away again and buried her face in her arms. A single thought kept returning to her intermingled with guilt… because despite everything, she hadn't been able to kiss Ichigo that night, and he was still coming to rescue her. They had always been friends, since they were children—they shared many qualities, and yet were different in many ways. There were things about him that she admired, and had tried to find within herself. She had once been jealous of the relationship that Kuchiki-san and Ichigo shared… she had even shared her feelings with Rangiku-san…

Had it really taken her such a short time to forget all of that?

And Ulquiorra was a Hollow—one of Aizen's loyal followers. Aizen, the traitor, who they were all trying to fight against, and who was unforgivably wicked. Ulquiorra had once said that Aizen's ideals were his own. He had kidnapped her on Aizen's orders…

And, she admitted, he had every right to be confused—it was _she_ who had kissed _him_. The tiniest of smiles pulled at the corners of her mouth.

But he hadn't pulled away…

_Maybe he just enjoys kissing people!_

But that didn't sound quite right…

She felt rather than heard his footsteps coming closer. He knelt in front of her, but Orihime only buried her face deeper in the pillow of her arms and hugged her knees closer. She was so embarrassed… Maybe if she sat here long enough he would go back to the castle. It was warmer on top of these pillars than in the desert, she thought; she could wait for her friends to arrive from here.

But there wouldn't be anyone to defend her against the Hollows …

They sat there for a few minutes; she heard Ulquiorra sigh, but not, she realized, with impatience.

He moved nearer, and Orihime felt his breath near her ear. She shivered involuntarily.

"I can take you to your world tomorrow, if you wish, before you go to meet with Aizen-sama."

Orihime lifted her head slowly, her mouth open in shock. His face was expressionless, his mouth set in a soft line; but his eyes were once again wistful.

_Why does he seem so sad now?_

Her world? Despite herself, Orihime felt her heart soar; she could visit her friends again! The human girl grinned and jumped forward, and hugged the Espada tightly. Ulquiorra tensed in surprise at the sudden contact.

"Thank you!" she said, her blue-gray eyes glimmering. Then she hurriedly sat back again, as if remembering herself. She cleared her throat, and looked away, her pale cheeks blushing pink again. "I mean, yes please, that would be great."

He sat beside her quietly, looking out over the seemingly limitless sky. The sun had dipped lower on the horizon, staining the sky around it a pale yellow. The sand gleamed golden as the waning light struck it, but Orihime wasn't gazing at the scenery. What if, she questioned, he had actually been trying to gain her trust for another reason?

"I'm sorry about—" she stammered. "I mean, I guess I was just really surprised that you were awake—I don't think you're evil—"

"You apologize too much."

Orihime sighed—it was a cold remark as always, which she translated to mean 'it's all right, don't apologize.' There was simply something in the tone of his voice when he said it—even though the words themselves were icy.

She found herself smiling again… why was she suddenly so giddy?

"That was a close one, huh?" she said, awkwardly. "I guess I'm always getting into trouble, aren't I?" She laughed nervously, although she knew it was the last thing she should be doing at the moment—she just hoped he would say something back.

"You are the only human in Hueco Mundo, Orihime," he said after a moment's pause. "It is only natural that the Hollows here would wish to seek you out." But he was a Hollow too, she thought. He should have been looking at her in the same manner as the wolf-beasts had—the reasoning left her feeling uncomfortable. She turned towards him, concern painting her features.

"Have you ever thought about—you know—since I'm human, and you're…" she trailed off, not wanting to say any more.

"I imagine that I would find you quite distasteful," he replied dispassionately; Orihime smiled in relief, but then took a minute to think about what he had said.

_Wait a minute… What?_

"'Distasteful'?" she repeated indignantly, glaring at him angrily. "And just what do you mean by that?" But Ulquiorra was looking at her askance, the corners of his mouth curved ever-so-slightly upward in a lazy smirk.

Orihime laughed, feeling the color rise in her cheeks.

She looked around at the sandstorm ocean around them, wondering when it would pass.

"I guess we're going to be here for a while," she remarked.

"It would not take me much effort to return you to the castle." Orihime suppressed a grimace—no more flash-stepping for her today, thank you. It had made her decidedly queasy. And, if they went back, he might have something to do; he'd leave her alone in her room again. She was enjoying herself, she admitted. Who would have believed that Orihime Inoue, kidnapped in Hueco Mundo, would be able to feel so content? And with her kidnapper, no less?

"That's okay," she grinned. "I think I'd rather walk. Besides, the sun feels nice." She stretched languidly, and yawned. "It reminds me of the times I went to the beach with Nii-san." She smiled, remembering days spent in the ocean, and on the shore, building sandcastles before she had grown too old for such things. Ulquiorra blinked once, curiously.

"He died a few years ago," she continued. "But he came back as a Hollow." She watched, as he seemed to puzzle over something in his mind. It was strange how at times he could seem so frightening, and yet at other times so unsure.

"Do you think you were human once, Ulquiorra?" she asked.

There was a long pause, and the Espada closed his eyes.

"I do not remember," he said finally.

"Will you come with me?"

He looked at her quizzically.

"I mean, when I talk to Aizen," she explained. She strongly suspected that he would have come with her anyway, even if she hadn't asked. But somehow, she knew his answer would make her feel more at ease.

"If you wish, woman."

Orihime smiled, lay back against the smooth crimson surface, and looked up at the steadily darkening sky. She wondered why there were no clouds there, but then, why would one find clouds in a desert? Orihime yawned sleepily… It probably didn't ever rain here…

* * *

Ichigo Kurosaki leaped along the ice-blue path that would take him and the others to Hueco Mundo. Uryuu Ishida ran ahead, with Chad following behind the shinigami. Velvety darkness pressed around them on all sides, and the farther they ran, the more the temperature began to drop, and the more Ichigo worried for his friend beyond. They were so late already; what if something had happened to her?

Deep inside him, Hichigo stirred.

_Question, my foolish friend: How do you know your girlfriend didn't want to go with them, eh? How do you know she ain't a traitor like they say?_

In the last few hours the Hollow had taken to pestering him about Orihime's loyalties—his obnoxious voice punctuated with increasingly short arguments. The last had ended in Ichigo getting a headache—because the more they talked, the more he himself began to question, even though he knew it was stupid to do so. She had left a note—why would she leave a note if she didn't want to be found? Why would she sympathize with Aizen's cause? Why would she purposefully work with Hollows?

_She might've left a note so you'd come after her, genius. And I dunno… maybe she she'd be more prone to work with Hollows seeing as how her brother used to be one? Ever thought about that?_

Ichigo stifled a sharp-tongued retort; the Hollow was looking into his memories again—he had no right—why was it that whenever the shinigami was anxious, it only brought out the worst in Hichigo?

'_Get outta my head,'_ he thought angrily.

_All right, all right—but one thing before I go… _

'_What?'_

_Watch out._

Ichigo felt sand hard against his body—he rolled down the side of a dune before coming to rest at the bottom. Uryuu and Chad stared at him from the top just as he managed to lift himself off the ground, and the three of them ran swiftly across the desert sands…

* * *

"_What if I stayed, then?" she mused aloud. "My friends wouldn't have to come rescue me and put themselves in danger. I could heal people if they got really badly hurt, I guess—and I could stay in the castle with… with you…" She blushed deeply; there she was, saying too much again. _

_They had walked back just as the sandstorm began to dissipate—the sun had dipped lower on the horizon, and by the time they walked back inside Las Noches, it was nearly dark. Orihime had found herself stealing glances at him at intervals throughout the entire trip. Although Ulquiorra was his usual arctic self, he seemed to have pressing matters on his mind; he was obviously distracted. _

_The comment brought his attention back to her immediately, and Orihime saw something like hope glimmer in his viridian eyes; but as he read her surprised expression, the orbs closed. _

"_You should not speak of things if you have no intention of doing them," he said softly. Guilt pulled at her insides—she looked away, her situation coming into focus again. She could almost sense her rescuers coming for her even as they spoke; for the first time since she had come here, she wished they would stay away for a little while longer._

"_I'm sorry."_

_As they neared the entrance to her room, Orihime smelled something warm and sweet. The familiar odor wafted from the portal, and the curious human girl peered inside. The old Arrancar had left what looked like a large basket of blueberry muffins on her table. The sight of them put her in a slightly better mood—she was starving, and she loved muffins. _

_The redhead started for the couch, but felt a light grasp on her hand. She turned back suddenly; felt his fingers intertwined with hers. It crossed her mind how ghostly he looked—face waxen in the moonlight, his eyes glimmering the deepest of greens. His other hand slowly came to rest beneath her chin, and she tilted her head upward just before their lips met…_

_And then he was gone—Orihime stood completely frozen in the doorframe, because she sensed another presence far away, yet it was crisp with familiarity…_

* * *

"My dear Espada," the charming tone of Sosuke Aizen held the attention of all seated before him. "We are under attack." Some among the ten faces around the table exchanged glances, while others simply watched their leader, in awe because he seemed so relaxed even as he said the words. Still more sat back, wondering what threat could possibly be so terrible to warrant such a meeting—and couldn't they all go back to sleep, or whatever it was that any one of them did? One or two didn't react at all.

"But never mind, never mind," Aizen said casually. "Let us have some tea before we discuss such matters."

Beverages were passed along to each Arrancar in turn until there was a halo of steam around the table. Every so often, some of the more daring would take a sip; each pair of eyes now set on a small sphere the shinigami had conjured in the center of the table. Within it lay a desert scene, and in the center a trio of running figures. Already the Espada were gauging the power levels and identities of these three, as well as the time it would take before they arrived, or were any threat to them. They also knew that more were on the way…

Ulquiorra Schiffer looked at the figures running in the desert along with the others, his face impassive, and yet his eyes rested on one far longer than the others—a lean, black-robed shinigami with fiery orange hair. He remembered the threat he supposedly posed to the Arrancar within the castle, the conflict they had had in weeks past, and his master's plans that were now being fulfilled. But most of all, he remembered that the human girl under his care knew that the ryoka was there in the desert, running to rescue her at long last; that she cared very deeply for the shinigami; and that his very presence in Hueco Mundo was not welcome—an unexpected surge of anger rushed through him. But, he also recalled the promise he had made to her…

_I don't want any of my friends to die…_

The fourth Espada closed his eyes in silent resolution.

* * *

Orihime woke abruptly from her morning spent in fitful slumber—having spent the night sensing those within the castle who were caught in a race to find her. She gasped suddenly, feeling as though her heart had been stilled. All of the days she had trained before she had been taken here came back to her now in vivid recollections; all of the laughs she had shared with one of her dearest friends, as well as the jealousy she had once felt; all of the days spent in a long journey to rescue her… The human girl's eyes burned with tears, her mind washed clean of all thoughts save one:

_Rukia Kuchiki is dead._

* * *

Wow, spur of the moment kiss when they were on top of the forest place of EVIL DOOM... I was definitely like... wow...

Anyway. I hope you enjoy this chappie. :D It's long.

And now the story will miraculously get much more interesting.

Sorry for the lack of updates - I really wasn't feeling too well.

Your reviews are amazing! 3 Thankies!

I don't own Bleach!


	9. One Last Time

**P . A . T . H . W . A . Y**

**IX**

_One Last Time_

Orihime sat against the cold marble wall, her knees hugged closely against her chest. The skirt of her Arrancar's dress tumbled in ruffled folds around her. Her face was wet with tears; she stared into her lap, feeling numb. Reality, it seemed, had caught up with her—how could one of her dearest friends be gone? Had she really thought everyone would come out all right in the end once they entered Las Noches? It was the enemy's stronghold, full of armies of monsters, both numerous and powerful. Orihime sobbed suddenly, remembering what she had had sensed—the cold spiritual pressure that was at once familiar and yet completely alien to her.

She had been killed by an Espada.

Orihime kept darting glances to the doorframe, expectantly. Ulquiorra hadn't come in yet; hadn't been in the room all night. She grimaced at the thought that kept returning to her; that despite everything she had believed she knew about him, he was still an enemy. The enormity of her situation had stricken her all of a sudden; she had been kidnapped for her powers, and her friends were on their way to rescue her. She hadn't given any thought to run away—the one attempt she had made had been ill planned. Orihime buried her face in her sleeves. She hadn't even _wanted_ to escape…

She had wanted to stay _longer_…

And he hadn't been with her when she sensed it happen. She had been alone in her room, half-asleep because she had been worried for her friends. All the while she lay awake wondering if it could it have been possible that he had done it.

_He promised me…_

She trusted him; and there was more than one Espada in Las Noches. He had left her with a kiss as Ichigo and the others had entered the castle—why would he do something like that if not to reassure her?

"Kuchiki-san," she sobbed.

"The female Soul Reaper lives," a calm, quiet voice from the direction of the sofa sent shivers down her spine. Orihime jumped at the sudden sound, her tearful eyes meeting the watchful gaze of the fourth Espada.

"Is she all right?" Orihime asked quickly, rising on her feet as if about to go and help her friend herself.

"There is no permanent damage," replied Ulquiorra, as cold and calculating an answer as ever.

Orihime sighed in relief, hiding her face in her hands.

"I thought…" she trailed off, unable to finish. She had convinced herself that Ulquiorra was someone who she could trust, and whom she cared for. So why was it that she still had doubts about his actions?

"You believed I was the one who attacked her," finished Ulquiorra for her, his toneless voice softer than usual. Orihime looked at him guiltily, knowing his words to be true, but not having a clue as to what to say to him. He blinked once, as if understanding what she was thinking at that moment. "It is a valid concern given your circumstances."

The human girl stared at him, unsure of whether to take the comment by way of comfort or warning. He hadn't said 'I wouldn't do something like that', or 'that was a stupid thing for you to think'. But then, Ulquiorra wouldn't say those things—Orihime had come to expect him not to, and to interpret what he said based on what he did. She had half-enjoyed such a task before, but now it scared her; she found that she wanted straight answers for once—when it concerned the lives of those she cared about.

"Who was it?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

"Aaroniero Arruruerie lies slain," he answered indifferently. It was a simple statement of fact; Orihime had ceased to believe that Ulquiorra had any close ties with his counterparts. According to the old Arrancar, he 'kept to himself'. But she was glad somehow that it hadn't been him up against one of her closest friends.

Aaroniero—the frightening two-voiced Arrancar she had heard speak with someone else yesterday… Kuchiki-san had faced him alone. It must have been a harrowing experience—Orihime wondered what horrible things had happened during the course of their battle. The drop in her spiritual pressure had been so sudden. And the scenario had brought about the realization that sooner or later, her comrades would come for her; but a steadily growing anxiety was beginning to haunt her—what would Ulquiorra do when that time came?

_What will I do?_

She opened her mouth to speak, but Ulquiorra was already rising from his seat, stopping lazily in the center of the room and watching her expectantly. Then he held out his hand, which Orihime quickly got to her feet automatically to take. The bottom of her sleeve rose up slightly to expose the glimmering silver band around her thin wrist. She recalled the offer he had made the day before—and quickly wiped her tears away.

With his other hand, the Espada opened a rift in the thin air, which expanded and threw dim sunlight into the little room. Beyond the open portal lay a familiar sight: the edge of the park where she had first seen him. The morning sky on earth was cloudy and foreboding, patches of cerulean letting slim rays of light peek through. But the warm earthy breeze more than made up for it.

"Do not show yourself to anyone," he said quietly as she admired the scenery. "I will meet you later." He turned away, his fingers sliding away from her hand, but she held him fast. Ulquiorra glanced back at her abruptly, obviously surprised.

"But it won't be any fun if I go by myself," she remarked, smiling meekly. He observed her silently, as if shocked that she would say such a thing, but stepped through the portal as well, making certain to mask his aura of spiritual pressure as he did whenever spying for Aizen.

The grassy field was empty, both because it was early in the morning, and because it looked like it was going to rain. They stood where Yammy and Ulquiorra had stood many weeks before, the ground still barren where the larger Arrancar had been. She remembered with a sickening lurch that she and her friends had nearly been killed here. But as she exchanged glances with the Espada beside her, she was able to convince herself that things had changed. They were still holding hands; Orihime walked forward, with Ulquiorra beside her.

The city in the distance was only just awakening, the lamplights beginning to fade as the first of the morning traffic started to flow. Orihime began to wonder what time of year it was; she had been gone from her world for quite a while—her only visits in the past months had been brief at best. She imagined that her friends—her human ones—were worried…

"Orihime," she heard Ulquiorra's voice, a slight hint of concern staining its smooth tone.

"Oh!" she started, smiling up at him. "Sorry, I was just thinking about—well, anyway…" The human girl stopped, wondering what they should do first, when her eyes fell on the pastel pink tops of the sakura trees surrounding the pond.

"Wow! Look over there!" she cried, suddenly pointing, just before abruptly striding swiftly off towards the trees and dragging the Espada behind. They reached the blooming trees quickly, and Orihime let go of his hand, warmth rising in her cheeks because she realized she'd been holding it all of this time. This forest was similar and yet entirely different from the one in Hueco Mundo, she thought. The trees seemed so full of life, the petals blushing pink as they floated softly to the ground. Below her, the earth was littered in soft pink flowers—some of the falling petals came to rest on Ulquiorra's head and shoulders, and Orihime laughed as he frowned and brushed them off.

"Remember I told you I didn't get to see the sakura blossoms bloom this year?"

The pale Arrancar nodded once, his gaze shifting untrustingly to the flowering branches above him, as if they might attack him at any given moment. She reached up and plucked a set of flowers from the lowest reaching branch before walking up to him, watching him as if appraising his appearance.

"Hmmm… needs something," she said as she carefully placed the blossoms in his soft hair. "There."

The human girl giggled.

Ulquiorra's frown deepened as he folded his arms, but it only made Orihime laugh all the more. The Espada waited until Orihime's attention had gone elsewhere before taking the blossoms from his ebony strands. He studied them meticulously; they lay soft and delicate on his palm.

"Thank you for taking me back here," she said, looking around at the pond nearby. "And for saving me yesterday from those Hollows… that was scary." She shuddered, recalling the ravenous yellow eyes of the beasts trying to attack her.

"You did not seem frightened," he remarked softly, his gaze falling on the tree branches. It was said seemingly as an afterthought. Orihime stared at him—of course she'd been frightened. She'd been scared out of her wits… but…

She remembered Ulquiorra holding her tightly in his arms there on the top of the scarlet pillar as the wolves danced and leaped around them. He had been so unwilling to let her go, as if he didn't trust her to defend herself.

"You seemed frightened for me," she replied, half-jokingly. She laughed quietly, the bittersweet sound echoing throughout the silent park.

He glanced at her, his eyes puzzled, and yet sad. Orihime's brows rose slightly.

"You were really worried, weren't you?" she asked quietly.

Suddenly, he whipped around, his surcoat and hair spinning with him. The gesture was so sudden and violent that Orihime flinched, took a step backwards automatically. She felt something hard and cold behind her. It was rough—the bark of a tree.

"Tell me why," Ulquiorra murmured slowly, and the confused sound in his silky voice left her immediately silent. Her mind was wiped of thought, her face betraying her astonishment. She heard a slow thunder roll in the distance, and a lightning flash that turned his deep eyes into those of a demon. They were facing one another, and Orihime stood with her back against a tree trunk. The pungent odor of moisture hung in the air—rain was beginning to fall somewhere in the city.

"If you could have protected yourself," he murmured, the softness in his voice more noticeable than ever, "why should I have been concerned?" Orihime looked at him, at the glimmering ghostly countenance that in the half-light held all the emotions in the world. The question puzzled her. She had only been being playful.

The soft flat ovals of sakura petals fell like snow around them, pale and luminous in the grayscale atmosphere. The sun above was waxing behind its veil of clouds, cleaving a slim scar of white into the sodden sky. Beyond, she could hear the laden clouds whispering as they poured their contents over the earth. It sounded like a thunderstorm in the distance, but here, everything was tranquil. She watched as stray petals of the blossoming trees danced between them.

Orihime swallowed hard, sad, because his eyes demanded an answer, and because she could not give it. Of all the stupid emotions in the world, why should she feel sadness?

"It is foolish to become anxious over things that should not matter."

Orihime stared into his handsome face, not knowing what to say, as he searched hers himself. The tenseness was there again, perhaps unnoticeable to everyone else, but she had studied him closely enough by now to know, to be able to question…

He had put subtle emphasis on the word, _should_.

Orihime stood completely still, speechless, and in her heart her own conflicted feelings surfaced. Her friendship with those at home, and her feelings—she admitted—for one of the enemy. The Hollow that kept appearing nearer to her every time she blinked. He seemed so uncertain; but then, she supposed that it was partially her fault. She had acted, perhaps, only a little less cold towards him than he acted towards her.

But that was because she believed herself to love someone else entirely different.

She pressed her back against the surface behind her, and felt droplets of rain slide across her face—or were they tears?

Suddenly, it fell in cascades all around them; it soaked into her dress, his coat and hair lay smooth and wet across his pallid skin. As it fell atop his head and shoulders the water formed a ghostly mist around him; they were two lost spirits that no one could see.

She felt her body stiffen as he leaned closer to her. When had the distance between them closed so much? His face was centimeters away, his hand nearing her cheek hesitantly, as if she would shatter if he dared to touch it. She studied the pale curve of his jaw line, the sleek softness of his ebony hair. The rain was as cold as ice, but she could feel warmth seep into her cheeks. And then she knew, as if reaching a sudden epiphany, that the kiss he had allowed her to take and the swift kiss they had shared in the doorframe of her room—hadn't been a mistake…

_I love you…_

"And yet you said I was worried."

"Were you?" He was so close; she could see every detail of his jade eyes. She could feel his tousled hair tickle her forehead. Her body, tense with the bitter cold rain, was strangely relaxed now. She heard a thunderclap in the distance. The emerald orbs were half-lidded, pupils nearly round in the pale luminescent light. They did not appear cold and calculating, but limitless and deep.

It would be so easy to forget his loyalties, she mused, so easy to wash away his faults, and believe them to have never been. He was so close, that these things almost seemed invisible; if she closed her eyes, she could pretend that they weren't there.

She could all but taste his frosty breath on her lips. Her own breath was held, her heart hammering, and her question forgotten…

Something tugged softly at her scalp; his fingers were sliding through her hair, and she gasped, remembering how lethal his hands could be. He had killed another Hollow with those same hands, but in an effort to save her. She felt his cheek brush against hers; his skin as soft as she had thought it was all those days ago when she watched him in the candlelight.

"What if I said 'yes'?" he breathed in her ear.

"Why don't you just tell me if you were?" she whispered, not even bothering to try to suppress the tremor in her voice. "Why do you have to lie?"

She shivered as he laid his hand gently at the top of her neck. In the cold of the rain drenching them both, it was warm and firm. She felt his head shift against her, and gasped as his lips grazed her jaw line, moved slowly along it. Her breath stilled. It was enough, she thought frantically—more than enough—but he did not stop. She felt him kiss her neck, so lightly that it could have been a passing breeze. He wrapped his arms around her, slowly lifted his head to caress her cheek.

"I have never lied to you," she heard his quiet voice, unemotional and calculating as always. He tilted his head in closely, his eyes closing. For a half-instant, Orihime studied him—the deep tearstains that marred his stark white visage, rendered it melancholic and sad; the soft line of his mouth, peacefully expressionless; his beautiful eyes closed as if sleeping… and to her own astonishment, found herself leaning forward as well.

_All right, I'll believe you…_

She felt his kiss, soft and cool, like the feel of sakura blossoms or rain around her. It was so hesitant at first, but with growing confidence deepened, wonderful and sweet. It dawned on her, inexplicably, that she wanted it to last. She wrapped her arms around his neck, felt both silken hair and smooth half-mask beneath her searching fingers. His body tensed at the contact, as if in surprise, but then relaxed as he drew her closer…

_Why does it feel like I'm saying goodbye?_

Too soon, the embrace was broken; she opened her eyes as their breaths intermingled, the memory of the first time she had looked so closely into his own orbs clear. She remembered thinking she could drown in them. Her mouth formed a half-smile. Was this what it felt like? Her arms still lay around his neck, and as always, he wore a cold expression; but Orihime saw it as soft and sad. She had learned to read him at last, or perhaps only because he was so close to her. His face was so frozen, it left so much to the imagination… but she was pleased to see that he wasn't frowning.

Somewhere inside the walls of a castle far away, Ichigo was trying to find her. He might even be fighting a great army of Hollows now, just to save her. He would be there so soon—Aizen was adjusting his plans to account for it. This was wrong—hadn't the scare with Kuchiki-san been proof of that? Everyone was in danger, not only because of the one standing before her, but because of her own actions as well—she had tried to escape once, but he had come back for her. She hadn't tried a second time.

_Has it really taken so little time for you to forget? _

She turned her head away suddenly, denying him—and herself as well. Her arms fell to her sides slowly, her blue-gray eyes apologetic. She pulled away, but her heart leaped, because he refused to release her. And yet her eyes were filling with tears.

_Where has your resolve gone?_

After a moment's pause, his arms loosened around her. His face was a mask of puzzlement, and Orihime remembered that she had once thought it was only a mask. The doubt seemed so foolish now; she had learned better of him.

She moved away, walking towards the still dark waters of the pond, tried to see beyond the trees and rain, and caught a glimpse of the storm calming far away. She brought her fingers to her lips, still softened with the embrace. The raindrops spattered as they hit the water, each one striking an echo of its presence on the surface.

He walked behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder, as if by way of comfort, and the human girl took it and placed it idly in her palm where it lay limp and pale. She looked at him, her expression as wistful as she had seen his own. But only now did she understand what it really meant.

_I'm going to miss you…_

As if by silent consent he opened a portal between them. It was time to leave.

* * *

Orihime had expected them to go back to Aizen's throne room, but instead, the pallid Arrancar led her to the entrance of a small chamber off the main course of the labyrinth. She had changed into another—dry—Arrancar uniform, the strands of her hair still damp from that morning's venture. The journey was silent save for their padding footsteps; and the human girl felt the sickening sensation of apprehension and dread, not assuaged by the numerous glances Ulquiorra kept throwing her. On top of it all, she could keenly sense Ichigo's presence somewhere nearby—she looked around, expecting him to pop up around every corner. It would only make things worse in her mind, Ulquiorra and Ichigo facing off while she had to watch—she shuddered; it was a nightmare scenario.

Again, she felt Aizen's reiatsu before actually seeing the man himself; dampened for her sake. He greeted her warmly at the entrance, his face pleasant enough, but his eyes as cold and sharp as she remembered them to be. Orihime took one last look at Ulquiorra standing in the doorframe before walking inside; she was glad when the shinigami didn't send him away. But then, she remembered the two Arrancar in the red forest, and supposed he might be observing the fourth Espada as well. She shifted uncomfortably at the notion.

"Welcome Orihime Inoue," he said quietly, his mouth forming a smile. It struck her how different the expression was from anyone else's that she knew—while it appeared honest, it was only another means to deceive her into thinking he was friendly and kind. This was the same man who she and the fourth Espada both knew wouldn't hesitate to kill her when he deemed her 'of no further use'. "Ulquiorra tells me that we may have need of you once all of this is finished—'for your healing abilities', I believe is how he put it. You sympathize with our cause then?"

The question completely surprised Orihime—she hadn't been expecting it at all. But what should she answer? If she said 'no', then he might kill her as soon as her services were complete, and Ulquiorra might be in trouble too, she thought—Aizen would realize why he had suggested anything in the first place. But if she said 'yes', it would seem suspicious as well. What human would sympathize with the very beings that fed upon them?

"Only with the people who are injured," she replied in a sudden flash of inspiration. "I simply noticed you didn't really have a place where they could be healed."

_Waugh! What am I doing?_

But Aizen's charming grin only widened.

"Good answer," the shinigami chuckled, as if he could see the redhead's thoughts written all over her face. "But I am afraid it's a little off the mark. Your abilities are not those of a healer—despite, I am sure, what you have used them for up until now. Ulquiorra saw them as a sort of temporal displacement—'time reversal' if you will. But while his observation was closer, it still didn't quite ring true. The difference could be seen more readily in your use of shields and barriers." He paused and waved his hand in an elegant motion. Orihime, realizing she had been giving rapt attention to the shinigami's words, followed his cold gaze to the floor between them. A small cylinder was rising out of the floor slowly and silently; Aizen resumed his speech as it continued to move upwards.

"You have the unique ability to reject events that have happened in the past," he continued. "You can take any object—or person—and by using your powers completely reverse anything that happened to it." Orihime stared, disbelieving. If his words were true, she could use her powers for far more than just healing. But how far could she go with them…?

"And now we come to the real reason I have brought you here," Aizen interrupted her reverie, his charmingly silky voice calm. "You remember the quest you and your comrades ventured into to save a friend—and of course, how it all ended." Orihime nodded slowly, unsure of what he was getting at, but certain that it must have some connection to the 'Orb of Distortion' she had heard Ulquiorra mention…

The cylinder's top was beginning to divide itself, each section a disk spiraling outwards away from the main body. The human girl peered over it just as the last disk uncovered a compartment inside. Within it sat a small glowing sphere, and even though it looked innocent and humble compared with some of the other things she had seen in Hueco Mundo, Orihime could sense great power sleeping within its depths.

"This is the Hogyoku," she heard Aizen's voice. "Kisuke Urahara's invention he so feared that he hid it in a place he believed no one would suspect—but he was a fool." Aizen wasn't smiling now, Orihime noted. The change in his demeanor was horrifyingly drastic. The flimsy mask of charm was gone, his eyes burning like frigid fire, and his massive spiritual pressure threatening to spill over. Orihime stepped backwards, fearfully searching for Ulquiorra's presence—he was there, his own aura of reiatsu tense and thick, as if ready to strike. Orihime had to tell herself not to turn around and give him a warning glance. Would he really defend her against his own master?

"It is deteriorating," the shinigami's voice continued. The human girl looked at him again, the shadow of a smile returning to his features. "I have used it in order to advance the powers of my Hollows, but as it is dormant now, these uses have weakened it considerably. The service I require from you, Orihime Inoue, is simply to restore it to its original, undamaged state." She stared at him, her face still pallid with fear. But she tried to keep herself impassive all the same.

_Aizen-sama does not tolerate weakness…_

"Can you do this for me when the time comes?"

"Yes, Aizen-sama," she said, this time searching for her friends' presences. They would be here soon—she had very little time to wait now. But, she realized as she looked into Aizen's countenance, surely the shinigami knew that—they were walking into a trap, she realized. How would they ever find their way out in the end?

Unless…

* * *

The walk back to her room was silent, as she thought about the information Aizen had given her not only about her powers, but about the Hogyoku as well. Most of all, she thought about Ulquiorra, and what he would do once Ichigo and the others finally came—what she would ask him to do. But… surely he, an Arrancar, wouldn't dare…?

With her friends so close did it matter? Hesitation at this point was something she knew she couldn't afford. If nothing else, the scare with Kuchiki-san had taught her that her situation was dangerous, and incredibly real, despite what she knew she felt towards the Espada. And—when at last she did leave Hueco Mundo, she desperately wanted him to come with her. To see him on the opposing side, knowing that she and her friends would have to fight him—it was something she didn't think she could bear.

They walked inside together, and Orihime stood in the center of her room, while Ulquiorra simply watched her.

"They'll be here soon," she said, not knowing where to begin. The words tumbled from her lips now, unchecked by her doubts or fears. He wouldn't leave her alone if she said them now—he would listen instead. Ulquiorra closed his eyes in acknowledgement, but said nothing. The bright radiance of that morning was giving way to quiet afternoon, though the sky still shone blue outside.

"I was wondering…" she said nervously. "I really wish you would come with me—when—when we go…"

"You believe they will succeed."

Orihime gawked at him, stricken and disbelieving.

"Why shouldn't I?" she asked, her voice rising. "They've made it this far—"

"Now that they are entrapped within the castle, they are at their most vulnerable," Ulquiorra interrupted quietly. "They have disbanded in an effort to find you, but at a cost. Every battle that they fight only further weakens each one of them." Orihime stared at him, at a loss for words. To hear her own fears echoed by the Espada, described so coldly, sent a wave of nausea through her; but he continued nonetheless.

"There are many of us," he said, "and Las Noches is a maze for those who are not familiar with it. There is little hope that they will even make it to this section of the castle." Orihime clenched her fists, the sick feeling swiftly being replaced by anger—Ulquiorra was telling her all of this the same way he told her everything else. As if it were a fact; he was absolutely certain of it, and that was the final word. Nothing else mattered.

"You don't even know them—!" She had wanted him to come too… but it seemed that he had full faith that Aizen's plan would work. That they would be trapped here, and Ichigo and the others would never make it to even see her. But he didn't know how determined they could be; Ichigo was just as sure of himself as Ulquiorra was—he was certain that he would find her, just as Ulquiorra was certain beyond any shadow of doubt that he would not.

"Your friends will die, Orihime."

Orihime had had enough. She walked quickly forward, furious, her fists clenched; she stopped in front of him, glaring into those cold eyes, angry for the first time in many days. Then she raised a hand and slapped him hard across his cheek, still staring defiantly into his pale face when his eyes turned back to look at her.

Her palm still burned from the impact.

He seemed confused now, but Orihime was absolutely sure that he would see—along with everyone else in Las Noches.

And when she asked him to come with her a second time, he would not refuse.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared into the human girl's angry face for what seemed like an eternity. She had flipped from meek to angry in an instant, leaving him to try to figure out why. He had only been stating facts—her comrades would not make it far enough to get to her. Aizen's plan would succeed; everyone had taken precautions to see that it would. The ryoka and the others were trapped here, as was Orihime. They could not save her—it was an impossibility… why could she not see that?

His statements had made her angry.

He felt an uncomfortable sensation somewhere along his midsection; guilt, though he did not know why he should feel that way.

But it wasn't about this current situation, he realized. She had refused his offer to stay with him and remain useful to Aizen-sama—to be safe. He knew that his master would not hesitate to kill her once she had finished her services. Therefore, he should be helping her to escape… but it would go against the orders he had been given, and his master's wishes. And if they were to come soon, he reasoned, she had not restored the Hogyoku yet. He couldn't just let her go—

Moreover, he didn't _want_ to let her go.

She was important.

What if they did succeed in rescuing her, and were found later? They would be found eventually—because…

Aizen-sama had sealed off their escape routes.

If she was found with them, he might kill them all, even if Orihime was still useful to him. Aizen-sama would find another way to restore the Orb of Distortion. Ulquiorra closed his eyes—Aizen-sama always found a way.

Even if he did allow her to escape, she would be killed when Aizen-sama made his new world. She would fight alongside her comrades, and pay the price of allying herself with the Soul Society. Furthermore, the Soul Society considered her a traitor. He himself had made absolutely certain that they believed it to be true. How did he know she wouldn't be tried for treason and sentenced to death the moment she set foot on their grounds?

He didn't.

So there was one clear course of action.

Ulquiorra left her standing there, falling into the shadows of the labyrinth as her door closed and sealed behind him.

* * *

Ichigo Kurosaki was lost.

He'd taken a wrong turn somewhere, and instead of meandering his way further inside the castle, had come up nearing the outside instead. It was a large columned room, ending in another set of entrances and one long stairway, ending in a small door. It was still around midday—a bright shaft of light from outside cascaded down the steps, throwing them into relief. The place was eerie; he kept feeling that he was being watched. His sole companion, a small Arrancar by the name of Nel seated squarely on his shoulders, was quiet, obviously feeling unrest.

"Maybe we s'ood turn backs, Itsygo," she whimpered, her usual small babyish voice in her ear.

Backtrack? No way.

Ichigo stopped, trying to decide where to turn, just when he sensed a spiritual pressure above—coming from the direction of the stairs. Both Nel and the shinigami looked towards the shaft of pale light above them, now broken with the silhouette of a slim figure. The man descended the steps, slowly revealing his pallor, matching that of the light outside. But his eyes blazed a cold, crystalline emerald, tearstains below and black hair moving in the breeze coming from the door. His half-mask obscured one side of his face, but the eye cast in shadow gleamed demonically nonetheless. He walked down the stairs as if he were a prince, yet there was a smoothness in his gait that betrayed his power.

He was familiar.

It was he who had stopped Grimmjow from killing him weeks earlier. The shinigami put Nel on the ground, where she scuttled away to hide—he had no quarrel with this Arrancar, but that didn't mean that the Arrancar had no quarrel with him.

The Arrancar took his time descending the steps, observing Ichigo as one would an interesting new species—but his gaze was full of murderous intent, as if he believed the two of them had been enemies all their lives. Ichigo adjusted Zangetsu on his back, the knife-like blade, as always, ready for the challenge. At the back of his mind, Hichigo stirred. The pale man stepped quietly from the staircase, his cold eyes never leaving those of the shinigami. Ichigo stood still as he walked silently past, and came to rest directly in the path that the shinigami had been planning to take.

Ichigo watched him, dumbfounded, for several moments.

"Why do you not draw your blade, shinigami?" the whitewashed Hollow asked silkily, his deep voice casting no echoes in the vast columned room. "I am in the way of your destination." Ichigo looked at him curiously for a moment—why was this Arrancar so obviously baiting him? His eyes saw the green-bound hilt of a zanpakouto resting at the Hollow's side.

He didn't have time for this.

Ichigo brushed past the green-eyed Arrancar, suppressing an involuntary shiver when he sensed the man's icy reiatsu. The Hollow didn't move, but Ichigo could feel his green eyes follow him as he walked near.

"I don't have any reason to fight you," said Ichigo, stopping to meet his gaze. He decided it wouldn't be wise to not answer his question. The Hollow's spiritual pressure was worrisome. Ichigo walked on, motioning to Nel to stay in the shadow of the staircase where she was hiding.

"That is very interesting," the deep silky voice replied, and the shinigami stopped and turned around; back towards the sinuous Arrancar, who stood lazily with his hands in his pockets, his back turned towards Ichigo as if the Soul Reaper were absolutely no threat whatsoever.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed—he had no fight with this Arrancar, but that didn't mean he had to like the man.

Who exactly was this guy?

_Goes by 'Ulquiorra',_ remarked Hichigo with an anticipatory sneer.

Ulquiorra turned his head slowly, and Ichigo caught the profile of his tearstained face, his wicked eyes hidden behind a mask of ebony hair.

"What if I told you, then, that I was the one who forced Orihime Inoue to come to Hueco Mundo?" he asked, his tone sprinkled with the merest hint of satisfaction. The shinigami stiffened as the Arrancar's tongue slid easily over the human girl's name. Ichigo's blood boiled. Without hesitation, the shinigami flew at the pale man, Zangetsu thrown in a wide swing, intent on cleaving Ulquiorra in two.

But the blade was halted almost immediately.

Ulquiorra had blocked it with his bare hand.

"I _knew_ it," growled Ichigo, struggling to do some damage—but it was like trying to cut into steel. "I knew you people kidnapped her—why would she come here otherwise?" There was a pause, and Ichigo thought he saw the shadow of a smirk cross his opponent's waxen features.

"I see," Ulquiorra replied. "You came to rescue her even though you were unsure of her intentions. That is very interesting indeed."

With a swift flick of his wrist, the Hollow twisted Zangetsu around, and Ichigo had to tighten his grip to keep the blade in his hands.

* * *

_Orihime threw herself at the door again and again, but it would not budge. She sensed the two of them—Ulquiorra and Ichigo nearby. Each shift in spiritual pressure sent her into waves of panic. They were fighting; both of them were dueling at that very moment. She had to stop them; but why had Ulquiorra suddenly decided to go after Ichigo? _

_To prove his point?_

_She pushed at the closed door furiously, pulled at it in either direction, but finally slid against it, on the verge of tears. She should have escaped—why hadn't she seen this coming? Hollows like Ulquiorra lied for their own interests; broke promises that they might have made. And yet despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to think of him the same way she thought of the others. She sensed anxiously the battle far away, Ichigo's bankai suddenly raging. But Ulquiorra's spiritual pressure held fast all the same—he was so strong… _

_And then the two of them were too far away to be decipherable anymore. Orihime rose miserably, and pressed her back against the cold marble wall, trying to think of anything else to keep herself from being worried sick. _

_What was it that Aizen had said?_

_The Hogyoku…_

_If she used her powers to restore the Orb, she would do as Aizen asked. But her powers could be used to erase events that had happened in the past. So, she thought, wouldn't it be possible to erase the creation of the object altogether? Urahara-san had made the Orb—so Orihime could unmake it if she so desired._

_Orihime played with the folds of her Arrancar uniform, and studied the blank shadowed gray of the opposing wall._

_What would happen after that? _

_All of the events following its use—might be erased too. Everything Aizen or anyone else had done with the Orb since its creation wouldn't have ever happened. But that meant that the Hollows—all of them that had been turned by the Orb—would revert back to their previous states. All of the Arrancar that were adjuchas-class would revert to adjuchas-class Menos Grande. It meant that all of the Espada wouldn't be Espada anymore._

_And…_

"_Ulquiorra," she murmured, horrorstruck. But if she didn't do something, Aizen would have his war—and everyone—her friends included—would have to fight it. Orihime clenched her eyes shut. She didn't have a choice, then. _

_Did she?_

_She heard a rustling noise at her door._

"_Ulqui-" she began, but the portal was already sliding open, the binding spell set upon it lifted. Two pairs of eyes stared at her from the depths of the dark hallway, the voices that belonged to each of their owners singsong and malicious. _

"_Orihime-chan…" _

_The human girl gasped; Ulquiorra had stayed away too long._

* * *

In a matter of moments the room had been all but destroyed. The ryoka had been stronger than the Arrancar had believed him to be—but he was by no means invincible. As Ulquiorra had anticipated, his taunts had finally goaded the shinigami into action, and had made him reckless. His attacks were irritatingly powerful, but most were wild and inaccurate. If they hadn't been such wide swaths of energy, the shinigami would have missed the Espada on numerous occasions.

It was time to end this—it wouldn't be wise to leave Orihime alone for any extended period of time. He knew better than anyone else that the inhabitants of the castle were not happy about her presence there. It was his, Ulquiorra's, nearly constant presence that kept the others at bay.

The ryoka leaped for an opening in the wall, perhaps in a mad attempt at escape, or perhaps only to rest for a moment or so. But Ulquiorra wasn't one to allow him that luxury. Time was of the essence.

He appeared in a blur beside the shinigami, whose astonished gaze met his in an instant, and then moved down to observe the orb of viridian Cero the Espada held in his palm; just before Ulquiorra released it at point-blank range.

The shinigami flew back, crashing into an opposing tower far away. The Espada was there in an instant, just as the ryoka was pulling himself forcefully from the debris. Then, oddly enough, the shinigami began to laugh quietly. Ulquiorra felt an uncomfortable sensation over the tattoo just underneath his torn surcoat. The tip of a sleek black blade was pressed against his chest, though it trembled with the shinigami's effort to keep it placed there.

The ryoka looked up, his face fearless and arrogant.

"I guess you've got to be Aizen's most powerful, huh?" he asked, grinning. "So if I just take you out right now, it'll be a major blow to his little army, won't it?" Ulquiorra blinked once, his pale hand taking the slim edge of the obsidian sword and pushing it aside. The coat tore with its passage, revealing the ebony number four emblazoned in the Espada's stark white skin. His green eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the look of fading hope on the ryoka's battered countenance.

"Even if you were to somehow get past me, shinigami," Ulquiorra began quietly, "there are three others more powerful than myself lurking these halls." The Espada felt the Soul Reaper's tight grip begin to loosen at the hilt of his sword, but Ulquiorra held it steady at its tip. "But you do not have the capacity to best me, so it makes little difference."

Ulquiorra's other hand tautened, his fingers forming a deadly sharp point, but there was a moment of hesitation as the Espada remembered a time and place that had only a few seconds ago seemed so far away. He remembered the calm confidence in her sparkling blue-gray eyes as she spoke his name; he had taken a step back, though there was no reason to. He had promised her—but it was such a foolish pact. Why even consider it now?

_I don't want any of my friends to die…_

Then she had smiled at him.

The Espada struck; and as his grim resolve faltered, he all but grimaced to see the wounded shinigami faint in front of him while he withdrew. But the ryoka was alive all the same—it had been a calculated miss. Ulquiorra blinked down at his fallen foe, deciding that he was a complete fool, and that he would probably regret the decision later. Yet he knew it didn't matter. The alternative was unacceptable.

He turned away, pausing to address the shinigami one last time.

"Turn back the way you came," he murmured, "or die here. The choice is yours to make."

And with that, the Espada vanished again. It was time to go back to her.

* * *

Yay! I don't own Bleach.

Next chappie coming soon - this one came out so late because the next one was just so much fun to write...

I heart you all! Thanks for your lovely reviews!


	10. Farewell

**P . A . T . H . W . A . Y**

**X**

_Farewell_

He reached her room swiftly, realizing long before he neared the threshold that something was terribly wrong. She wasn't there—he had sealed the door, but she was gone. And now that he had entered her room, he saw that both door and wall had been completely destroyed. There were signs of a battle, but nothing more that was visible. However, two auras registered weakly—Arrancar with abilities far less than his own. They were trying to hide their spiritual pressures nearby, running down the hall obviously frightened at his abrupt presence. Ulquiorra grew irritated, knowing that he should have masked his own reiatsu the moment he sensed that Orihime was missing.

An orb of Cero flared in his hand—he loosed it at the wall behind which he knew the two Hollows to be running. An explosion wracked the already ruined marble, and beyond the settling debris, he saw two dark-haired women, both recently thrown back against the smooth floor. The two of them exchanged glances for a moment before scrambling to their feet. But as they scurried to run away, Ulquiorra blurred into existence directly in their path. Both faltered backwards, falling to the floor in their effort not to run headlong into him.

"Ulquiorra-sama," the first said in a terrified voice, her head bowed, while the other stared up into his flashing eyes. "We didn't realize—"

"Where is she?" he demanded, his tone arctic. He didn't care for these Hollows' excuses, only for Orihime's whereabouts, and fortunately for the obviously confused one he was addressing, her counterpart knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Grimmjow took her outside with him," the second replied quickly.

"She healed us," the other remarked shortly after, as if the information would stop him from blasting them as Grimmjow had. But Ulquiorra was already making his way outside; he would deal with these two later, he decided. If they were in any way intelligent, they would get as far away as possible from Hueco Mundo before he returned. But for now, his immediate concern was Orihime.

He had to get her back.

The Espada flashed over the blank yellowed dunes, his senses piqued for the cerulean-haired Arrancar's reiatsu as well as hers, hoping that she was all right. Why had he been so reckless? He should have finished the battle faster—should have counted on the ryoka's perseverance. Or made certain that his seal was strong enough not only to keep her in, but others out. He blinked once—that was in the past now; what was done was done—but what could Grimmjow want with her?

He quickened his pace.

And then it occurred to him: Grimmjow had brought her to heal the shinigami so that he and the ryoka could finish their moronic fight to the death. Ulquiorra altered his course over the desert sands, making his way back to where he had left the shinigami injured.

Injured but not dead. He was regretting his promise already.

He blurred in just as Orihime's healing shield was lifted over the ryoka, who was the first to notice the Espada's sudden presence. Ulquiorra's gaze was not trained on him, but on Orihime instead. She turned towards him at last; his worry dissolved immediately, only to be replaced by fury when he looked at the man who was supposed to be his subordinate.

"What are you doing, Grimmjow?" he asked dangerously, his eyes gleaming coldly. "Why are you healing an enemy I have already dispatched?" The sixth Espada whirled around towards him, snarling like a cornered wolf, his blue eyes ablaze. He did not reply, but unsheathed his silver katana and shot forward, intent on skewering the pallid Arrancar who had interrupted him. Ulquiorra leaped back into the cyan sky with him, blocking the argent blade with a simple thrust of his palm.

But Grimmjow grabbed the fourth Espada's other wrist with his free hand and wrenched it around behind him; Ulquiorra's eyes widened in shock as the edge of the blade was brought against his throat. But before he had a chance to react, the cerulean-haired Arrancar brought something small and black to his hand and shoved it near the fourth Espada's neck—directly over the dark hole just beneath his collarbone.

The fourth Espada knew then that it was too late to struggle, but his muscles seemed to tense of their own accord as the ebony cube entered within. Black ribbons of energy encased him, completely restricting his movement. It was pointless to resist, he knew, but as his viridian gaze found Orihime's inside the tower, he fought nonetheless to remain in the dimension where she was…

It didn't make a difference, as he already knew it wouldn't; he was already half-gone from Hueco Mundo, and while he knew he could make his way back, he didn't know if she would still be there when he returned…

"Damn," he swore quietly as the box enveloped him, and he relaxed at last, knowing both the familiarity of the icy chill and pressing darkness that closed in around him as if they had been memories from a past life.

* * *

_He fell as if through the deepest ocean, neither upward breeze nor sights around him telling of his plummet, and yet he knew, as if instinctively, that he would reach the bottom at some point, though he knew not when. It was peaceful enough here, though the cold was chilling to the marrow, and to his astonishment he could not call forth any of his energy to light the abyss around him. _

_And then all at once he reached the end of his fall through the darkness, his body landing on some hard surface. He suppressed a grimace. It hurt, though he had taken far worse injury in his own dimension and not felt any discomfort. But there he had had a thick layer of spirit energy to lessen his fall, while here he was completely powerless. He lay there and waited for the worst of the lancing pain to pass before opening his eyes. _

_Ulquiorra studied carefully the rough-hewn black stone beneath his stark white fingers as the savage aches in his body dissolved into vague soreness. Then he lifted his head from the floor and looked around, finding a wall of velvety blackness all around him, as though he alone were caught in an orb of glowing light. It occurred to him that anything could be beyond that veil, watching him at that very moment, but the Espada could not sense anything nearby—or had he merely been robbed of that ability as well? _

_No…_

_They were there, so very far away—thousands upon thousands of Hollows, their combined presences like a pinprick in a very great distance. But there was something else as well; the faintest of auras caught within the maelstrom of the others. He might have missed it, save for one obvious difference. While the others were sharp and arctic, it was warm and hauntingly familiar._

"_Orihime," he murmured, throwing himself to his feet and walking forward unhesitatingly towards the invisible star in the night. He remembered as if waking up the situation she was in, and the reason he had come to be trapped here. Whatever happened, he had to get back. Ulquiorra took three quick steps over the flat ground beneath him before his foot met open space; he lost his balance and fell, holding his breath against the cold sharp stone that battered his frame on the way down. _

_At last he reached level ground, exhaling in a sudden burst as he lay splayed out on the hard surface. There was a sound all around him, like the quiet echoes of ghostly laughter issuing from the veil._

_He didn't see what was so funny. This spill hurt even worse than the first one had._

_After a while, the Espada stretched out a hand beside him—he at least wanted to know what it was he'd fallen down. His fingers met a hard surface perpendicular to the ground beneath him, the digits traveling upward before leveling out again a few inches after. A stair, he supposed. He'd just finished tumbling down a staircase—how reckless, fumbling around in the dark. He got to his feet again, and searched for the warm aura; found it still ahead of him…_

_And then the room shifted. _

_He was thrown backwards along the staircase he'd just finished falling down, and felt nothing beneath him for a split-second before landing hard against what he imagined must have once been a wall. This time, the aura was high above him, out of reach. He closed his eyes, listening numbly to the reverberations of half-uttered voices beyond the line of his sight. As if the room hadn't been hard enough to navigate—how did he know that the ground wouldn't fly out from under him again when he got up? This was a device meant to punish his kind. He sighed—how was he ever supposed to get out when he could neither see nor use his abilities? It seemed hopeless…_

_But Orihime was there, the pathway above would lead him to her…_

_She might be in trouble._

_Ulquiorra got up determinedly, ignoring the stabbing pain in his back and ribs, and started for the staircase he'd fallen off of twice now, reaching up for the first step and hauling himself over before scrambling up the stairs. He met the hard surface of what had once been the floor at the top, and felt for any handhold, hoping that the room didn't move again. His hand ran along what must have been the beginning of another staircase. _

_Again, he pulled himself up, and scrambled up the stairs, glad when he met not a wall, but flat surface. He started forward—just as the room shifted back to its original position. _

_Ulquiorra fell onto another flat surface far below him, wincing audibly at the impact. Pain and exhaustion washed over him, and he supposed he had fallen a great distance judging by the odd changes in his vision. It occurred to him that he shouldn't be this tired. His eyelids fluttered once, his gaze traveling along oddly bright lines of light scattered over the rough black stone floor, before closing…_

_Unexpected—he hadn't been able to see that far ahead until now…_

_She had been reunited with the ryoka, despite everything he had done to prevent it. He had believed that the shinigami would not make it even that far. But she was trapped in Hueco Mundo anyway, with all of her friends… and if Aizen-sama found them together…_

_He had to go back before that happened…_

_Ulquiorra sat up abruptly, again determined. There was a shaft of light emanating from a crack in the wall in front of him. Its rays dimly illuminated the room—it was a vast chamber of winding staircases, he observed, some carved into the ceiling, the walls, and all around him on the floor. He searched wildly for an exit of some sort, but found nothing. _

_Nothing but the shaft of light beyond which lay that warm aura. _

_He drew his sword, knowing his hands to be useless in a place like this, and drove it viciously into the fracture, which crumbled and widened where the sword's venom spread across it. And just as the room shifted again, he clambered through, collapsing on the hard packed earth of an open listless landscape. A great weight seemed to lift from his shoulders, and he rose, sheathing his zanpakouto as the empty wind lapped around him. _

_Then he ran forward, blurring in and out of existence as the distance closed between himself and Hueco Mundo. _

* * *

Orihime stood watching, speechless; Grimmjow Jeagerjaques fell to his knees, blood pouring down his front. The cerulean eyes glared hatefully at his foe; but Ichigo only turned around, looked up at the girl standing on the top of a scarlet pillar. His golden eyes twinkled happily; because after everything he and his friends had been through, they could finally go home. Orihime looked back in relief and guilt, not quite smiling, but glad all the same because her dearest friend stood below her, grinning widely up at her.

But then an ominous presence overshadowed them, an aura as icy and sharp as a winter blizzard, angry and wicked.

Suddenly the scene dissolved in a blur of color and sound. Someone had their arms around her, and in the distance she heard Ichigo's voice shouting his dismay.

"Inoue!"

She leaned against the fourth Espada, feeling black hair brush against her forehead. His green eyes lay cold and focused on the castle in the distance, every ounce of power he possessed centered on the speed of their arrival there. He flew like a falcon over the ground below, red columns and sand dunes sliding swiftly below them. Orihime trained her eyes where his rested—in the chasm of debris from where she and Grimmjow had come. While she felt safe in Ulquiorra's arms, there was a cold weight of dread where her heart would usually leap. She listened hard; there was a rushing noise behind them, sharp and keening as the sound of a blade loosed from its sheath. She didn't have to look to know who it was—the spiritual pressure was familiar enough.

* * *

They reached the shadowed cavern created in the wall, his enemy's sandaled feet tapping gracefully on the dusty marble floor, just as Ichigo barreled inside, stopping short when he realized that the fourth Espada still carried the redhead in his arms. The two of them lay swathed in shadow, the pallor of the lean man's skin darkened, but his green eyes gleamed bright and dangerous, like twin viridian stars. Orihime stared at Ichigo apprehensively, her arm draped lightly over the dark-haired Hollow's shoulder. Ichigo caught the expression of calm on her face—she didn't seem to be afraid at all; more frightened, it seemed, at the prospect of further battle than anything else. He peered at the pair of them, puzzled, knowing something was wrong. But it didn't matter… everyone would all go home together—the shinigami knew Orihime would be in danger if she stayed in Hueco Mundo any longer. She was already in danger, even if she didn't know it herself—what would the pale Arrancar do?

"Let her go," demanded Ichigo, his voice still tainted by his own Hollow's influence. "Now!" Hichigo raged beneath the surface, staining the whites of his eyes black, and his usually dark irises golden yellow. But he kept enough of himself in him to know that if he tried to strike, the Arrancar might hurt Orihime. His thin black blade twitched once, menacingly, his gaze darting from Orihime to the expressionless face of the Espada.

The pale man walked forward into the waxen shafts of light emanating from the fractures in the ruined ceiling, slowly, his face devoid of emotion. Yet there was a certain calmness that defied explanation; it hadn't been there before, when they had been fighting. Ichigo had sensed that the Espada was angry then; so what had brought about the apparent change?

_Inoue…?_

"Are you really so worried for her?" the gelid man murmured quietly, his lips barely forming the words, as if he were talking more to himself than the one who stood before him. It took Ichigo aback, his eyes widened in astonishment—what kind of question was that coming from one of Aizen's followers? The same man who had shown no hesitation in nearly killing him only hours before was now asking him about his feelings towards one of his closest friends—holding her in his arms, markedly carefully.

"I said, 'let her go'," Ichigo repeated loudly, the sound in his tone mirroring his puzzlement. But the fury in his voice was unmistakable. Ulquiorra blinked once, mechanically, and tilted his head lazily to the side. He kept his movements purposefully lethargic, knowing it would anger the shinigami even more.

"You seem uncertain."

"I came here to rescue her," said the shinigami, more boldly, catching the satisfied flash in the Arrancar's eyes. "I'm not leaving without her. If you're going to stand in my way, then I don't have any choice." He pointed the blade at the face of the Espada, who seemed nonplussed by the gesture. Ichigo watched as the barest hint of a sneer played across Ulquiorra's features. Then the Espada gently released Orihime, who still stood beside him, holding his arm as if it would keep him from leaping forward and slashing Ichigo to ribbons.

It did.

The pale man looked down at her quizzically, his expression shifting entirely, at the pleading look on her countenance. She whispered something Ichigo couldn't hear, but the Espada only closed his eyes in resolution. The exchange was so odd, and yet there was something very familiar about it—how many enemies had watched this same exchange pass between Ichigo Kurosaki and Orihime Inoue? The shinigami gritted his teeth; what exactly had been going on?

_What have they done with you, Inoue?_

Then, as if by silent consent, the two of them parted. Orihime walked to the back of the room, and with a miserable expression on her face conjured her gleaming orange triangular shield. No sooner had she done so than Ichigo felt the immediate shift in Ulquiorra's demeanor. While his spiritual pressure had once been restrained the point of nonexistence, it now flowed in effortless waves around the shinigami, striking and piercing wherever it sensed weakness—the force of it was like ever-sharpening steel blades on Ichigo's thick layer of reiatsu. But the shinigami's barrier held, despite his injuries, and yet he could sense that the Arrancar was holding back.

_Why…?_

Ichigo took his chance. With a wide swing and a dash forward, he struck out at the Espada, and heard Orihime's cry of dismay. But the pale man merely blocked the obsidian katana with a quick thrust of his hand, and with a sudden twist wrenched it sideways. Zangetsu faltered in the shinigami's hand, but Ichigo held it fast. Ulquiorra's slit-pupiled eyes were fixed unblinkingly on his, the air between the two foes glowing a venomous green. And suddenly the shinigami felt a searing pain cross his midsection—the Espada's free hand pressed a thick orb of unreleased Cero against his chest. The shinigami ripped Zangetsu from Ulquiorra's iron grasp and swerved away just before an explosion rent the floor where he had once stood. Beyond, Ichigo could see Orihime knelt behind her shield, her hands cupped over her mouth.

He turned on his heel, racing behind the stoic figure of his enemy and swung wide. A dark scythe of black energy sliced through the air, aiming to hit the Hollow at point blank range; but just in time, he whirled, spear-hands outstretched to catch the blast. The heels of Ulquiorra's black-sandaled feet dug deeply into the already ruined marble floor—but Ichigo had leaped again, swung wide and his sword emitted yet another black scythe. He saw the green eyes widen in astonishment, and then narrow in anger, just as the second dark half-moon shrouded the Arrancar from view. He counted the seconds after the attack, willing his enemy's demise.

Distantly, Ichigo heard Orihime give a strangled yell…

And then, the pale figure shot from the back of the obsidian crescent, his white coat shredded and his hands outstretched—Ichigo gazed on in blank astonishment as his black half-moon dissolved in a chaotic mass of fading dark tendrils. The Hollow dove forward, slashing with his hands while Ichigo fought to block each successive blow. Their strikes and parries made the sound of two blades striking one another time and time again; each time Ichigo blocked, the faster his silent attacker stabbed and slashed—until Ulquiorra grasped Zangetsu's edge in both of his pale hands and thrust the shinigami backwards into the wall. Ichigo felt it crater behind him, his back going numb as the dust flew all around. Despite his will to stay standing, he felt his knees give way beneath him, and knelt on the ground, panting and staring up at his opponent's expressionless face and cold emerald eyes.

It was then that he realized how exhausted he was—having nearly died at the hands of this same Espada, fought Grimmjow Jeagerjaques to the last, and spent so much energy even before these events had tired him so. He had come so far, he raged, how could he stop now with Orihime in his sights? The shinigami struggled to rise to his feet, but found that it was impossible to make his aching legs move even an inch. His torso still burned from the Cero's touch. Ulquiorra had spared him the last time. He looked into the Espada's eyes knowing that his enemy wouldn't give him a second chance. He hung his head, waiting for the finishing blow…

All of this, and he was going to die here, now, when he had come so close…

_Pathetic_, Hichigo laughed from the back of his mind.

"_Pathetic,_" Ichigo heard his tainted voice echo, "_and he hasn't even drawn his sword yet. You really expect to rescue the girl like this? You never even had a chance._" He laughed, the sound coming slowly, but slowly growing louder as Hichigo realized that after days—weeks—of waiting, he had finally regained control.

Bright yellow eyes met those of green again, a twisted smile spreading across features that had once seemed human. He rose slowly, as if testing himself after a warm-up. The black blade slid easily out of the pallid Arrancar's loosened palms. Ulquiorra backed away slowly, curious at both the shift in personality and the spike in reiatsu.

"_Your name's Ulquiorra right?_"Hichigo asked casually, assessing his surroundings. Behind the girl's fiery shield, he could see her eyes frightened and wide. The Hollow gave her a playful sneer before turning back to his foe. "_I seem to remember you callin' me—what was it? 'Inconsequential'? Gotta say, that wasn't very nice." _

Without warning, Hichigo slashed upward, the black sword lashing out with another more concentrated scythe of energy—Ulquiorra met it with his right hand, and then his left, the force of the blast throwing him backwards against the opposite wall. His body gouged a deep rent in the marble surface before the debris flew up around him. Hichigo's insane laughter filled the chamber as he waited for the dust to settle.

"Ulquiorra!" the girl yelled from behind him, and Hichigo heard the grating sound of metal sliding against a sheath. He stopped laughing abruptly, watching a bar of venomous light pulsing in the cloud of dust floating in the air. Hichigo snarled savagely and Zangetsu rose at his command, loosing another set of dark crescent moons into the debris, one after the other—and watched as the glowing blade sliced every last one into two pieces. They exploded, never having reached their destination, flooding the chamber with more wreckage. Some of it fizzled and spluttered as it bounced off of the girl's shield.

Ulquiorra walked slowly from the mist of dust, his surcoat in tatters on his sleek build, but his blade glistening vibrantly, long and wickedly curved. It was stained and dripping in not only a poisonous pale green, but in familiar reddish black as well—residue from Hichigo's attack. Along the edge of the blade, the paler color seemed to overtake the darker hue, as if the katana were absorbing it. With a swift flick of his wrist, the Espada gave the sword a succinct mechanical spin, his face expressionless, but his eyes set coldly on those of gleaming yellow. The hand that held the unsheathed zanpakouto was bleeding, the other sporting a raw, red streak across its palm.

"_Not bad, not bad,_" remarked Hichigo, but he did not smile. "_You're a bit more interesting than the other idiots we been up against, for sure."_ Ulquiorra did not respond to the remark, but the tip of his blade rose incrementally, poised for attack or defense. Hichigo noted the unpredictability of his foe—neither eyes nor blank face gave any hint as to what the Espada's next move might be.

Hichigo was the first to strike once again, yelling incoherently; but this time Ulquiorra dashed forward as well. Zangetsu met the glowing katana again and again in incandescent spirals of white-hot sparks; but the edge of the obsidian blade was beginning to pale and dull where it met the Arrancar's sword—as if the zanpakouto's venom were corroding it. Hichigo snarled angrily and leaped back, watching as his weapon slowly resumed its normal ebony hue.

"_What the—?"_

But Ulquiorra was already slashing at the Hollow with wide arcs of his venomous blade in one hand, and with the other stabbing wherever he saw an opening. The two of them spun and danced around the ruin of the chamber, blurring in and out to evade, but always returning in a violent waltz of feints, thrusts, and parries. Ichigo's Hollow tried on numerous occasions to throw more dark energy, but Ulquiorra was simply too fast to allow such a wide swing. He wove in and out of Hichigo's angry swings, his hand slashing viper-like while the blade in his other hand stopped any counterattacks.

Finally, the fiery-haired man grimaced as the pallid fingers strafed his shoulder, barely managing to block the following arc of poisonous green with Zangetsu. Hichigo struggled to escape, to allow the rapidly graying katana more time to resume its normal color; but the Espada pushed forward, keeping the blades interlocked, until a tiny crack formed in the edge of Hichigo's sword where they met. The shinigami gritted his teeth, willing his weapon to stay together. His own dark energy ran up and down its length, black flames lapping at the venomous blade that struggled to cleave it in two.

Ulquiorra's weapon dug in further, the venom running along its length coalescing around the fracture and crawling up the dark edge, until the shinigami's zanpakouto was completely covered in it.

Zangetsu was quickly turning a sickly grayish-green—again Hichigo dashed backwards, throwing dark crescents wildly as he retreated, more to throw off the venom than anything else. Ulquiorra evaded most of the blasts of dark energy—the others he swiftly cut to allow himself passage.

It took noticeably longer for the black zanpakouto to return to normal, Hichigo noticed. He hated to think what would happen if Ulquiorra actually landed a blow with that sword. The yellow-eyed Hollow held his bleeding shoulder with a free hand.

_His fingers hurt bad enough…_

* * *

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime cried; panicking as she realized Ichigo had been hurt. Something had gone terribly wrong—the shinigami was acting so strangely, it scared her. And yet he had become more powerful—strong enough to contend with Ulquiorra. And the Espada was wounded too, she realized, looking at the thin rivulet of scarlet staining the green-bound hilt of his sword. If the fight didn't end soon, one of them would…

_How can I stop this before that happens?_

"This is terrible," Orihime murmured miserably, her face wet with tears, watching Ulquiorra's grim visage and the furious countenance of her friend. Both were determined, neither willing to back down. It was the very last thing she had wanted to happen—but a situation that was unavoidable given her circumstances.

"What can I do?"

If she could only distract them… but it would only stop them for a moment—they would be at each other's throats again soon after. She didn't know what it would accomplish, but she knew she had to do something—anything—to get them to stop fighting. She searched desperately for the flame spirit, knowing that he could get their attention—hoping that he would answer her at last.

_Tsubaki, please…_

The tiniest of acknowledgements entered her mind, and Orihime gasped in relief and surprise. At the last moment, when she needed him most—he appeared before her. But there was little time to celebrate—Ichigo and Ulquiorra were eying one another, each with an intent to kill.

"Koten Zanshun," she began quietly, her triangular barrier lifting…

Just as the two opposing warriors flew at each other, she released the fire demon…

"I reject!" she cried, her hands outstretched in front of her. She watched as the wall of orange flame shot between them; both surprised opponents veering off to avoid the sudden blast. Orihime saw two pairs of eyes meet hers in the following silence—amber and emerald green.

Ulquiorra stared at her, his lips parted in surprise, and despite herself and the situation she was in, she found her mouth nearly forming a sheepish half-smile.

Then Ichigo fell to his knees, Zangetsu dropping to the floor, still held loosely in the shinigami's grasp. His muscled frame trembled, his reiatsu fluctuating wildly—as if he struggled with something within himself.

Orihime started towards him anxiously, but in another split-second, Ulquiorra's pale hand was clamped around Ichigo's neck. The frozen shinigami's feet lifted slowly off the ground as the Espada held him higher, and Orihime's eyes widened in terror as Ulquiorra held his poisoned blade millimeters from Ichigo's throat. He had taken his chance.

"Stop!" she cried, running forward. Her hands flew around Ulquiorra's arm, and the Espada stilled at once, his aura of spiritual pressure falling.

His viridian eyes found hers at last, and the venomous blade fell away from the shinigami's neck. Orihime's blue-gray orbs glimmered, glassy and pleading, her pale face streaked with tears. The Espada released Ichigo, who staggered back, about to fall; and in an instant, Orihime was at the shinigami's side…

Hichigo grinned as he regained his balance, Zangetsu lashing out again.

"No!"

The scythe of black energy struck Ulquiorra hard across his midsection—he fell back, rolling across the debris-covered floor before coming to rest meters away. Orihime tried to run for him, but felt Ichigo's arms hold her back. She struggled and fought, but the shinigami's grip was vice-like. Was it Ichigo, or the thing she had seen fighting Ulquiorra?

_Get up…_

But he lay on his side, unmoving, his back towards her. She struggled again, wanting to help him; to be sure he was all right.

"Inoue," she heard a familiar voice and froze, tore her eyes away from the fallen Arrancar as the shinigami turned her around slowly, and enveloped her in a warm embrace. "I'm so glad you're all right." Orihime stiffened uncomfortably in his arms; they were so different from Ulquiorra's—rough and strong where the Espada's were gentle but firm. Ichigo took her hand in his, and strode towards the open door at the back that would take them further inside Las Noches. Orihime stood still and looked around, her eyes meeting those of sudden emerald green worlds away in the settling dust.

The Espada lifted himself slowly from the ruined marble, his hand covering his pallid chest, yet his attention was not on Ichigo, but on the human girl instead. She looked at him numbly for a long moment, watching his soft eyes for some hint of what he was thinking, but his face was expressionless and gelid as it always was. She wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come; she wished he would say anything, but knew that he would not. Orihime felt another pliant tug on her hand and stepped back once.

She remembered the days they had spent together, the mock-fights in the prismatic oasis, the night at the party, the many times he had kept her safe… the kiss they had shared in her world… It crossed her mind that her friends were trying so hard to take her home, but Ulquiorra had already brought her there twice… and now he seemed so confused, as if he didn't understand a thing…

She hadn't wanted to say goodbye like this…

She hadn't wanted to say goodbye at all…

_I wanted to stay with you…_

"Inoue, we have to go," Ichigo said from behind her, his voice still tainted by his Hollow, but his reiatsu stabilizing. "They'll find us if we stay any longer. We've got to get everyone out of here."

And he was right—once they were captured, her friends would be killed—and she would be soon after her task was completed. The Hogyoku—she had realized that she could destroy it… but had believed that if she did, those Aizen had turned with it would be brought back to their original states. The traitorous shinigami would be without his minions to command. Her eyes burned with tears.

But Ulquiorra wouldn't be himself anymore.

If she stayed, the only choice she would have would be to either accede to Aizen's wishes, or to unmake the Orb altogether. If presented with the task, she knew she could only choose one thing. If she stayed, she would be forced to make that decision now—end the war her friends would have to fight, but lose the one she loved forever.

_I couldn't… do something like that to you…_

With that thought firmly in mind, she closed her eyes determinedly and turned away; followed Ichigo down the hall, not caring where he might lead her, not even caring to look beyond the soft steps of her own black-sandaled feet. Her hand still lay in his warm grasp, but she made no effort to hold it in hers.

* * *

They raced across the desert sands, Orihime reunited with her friends. She ran alongside Uryuu and Chad, Ichigo still holding her hand. She spoke to no one, as no one spoke to her; they were too busy scouting for potential enemies. It seemed odd, she thought vaguely, that no one was following them. But she was too tired and miserable to care; tears still caught at the corners of her eyes, but she forced them back in present company. Still, she knew that they could see something was wrong—Uryuu kept throwing worried glances at her, and she found that she couldn't even answer them with any reassuring gesture.

It was still so hard to believe that she was leaving. The human girl looked over her shoulder, at the castle that had been her home for many many days, and at the damaged edge of the complex, where she knew a certain pale Espada rested.

_Ulquiorra… Please forgive me…_

They were soon joined by a red-haired shinigami, his tattooed visage grim and bloodied, though he showed no sign of being in pain. Abarai Renji, Orihime remembered—he nodded at her sullenly, and she nodded back automatically. He carried a small dark-haired woman in his arms—Kuchiki-san. Rukia looked at her with bright eyes, though she kept a hand over her midsection, bandaged underneath her robes.

The group of six ran nonstop, the sky above cast in a blood-red sunset. It colored the dunes ahead of them a vivid crimson, but behind, they were washed in a deep amethyst-blue. The first radiant glimpse of the moon gleamed over the castle behind her. Orihime wiped a stray hot tear from her cheek irritably, hoping no one had noticed.

"Is something a little off to you guys, or what?" Renji broke the held silence, interrupted only by their padding footsteps on the soft sand. "We fought real hard to get into that place, but now that we're leaving, there ain't anybody here."

"Doesn't bother me," Uryuu remarked, but there was a trace of uneasiness in his tone nonetheless.

"Itsygo!" a distant, high-pitched voice cried suddenly. "Itsygo! Wait for meeeee!" In unison, the party stopped, Ichigo finally releasing Orihime's hand. A few meters away, a small dust cloud was following them, and when it neared, the human girl could make out a small puff of greenish hair before a familiar tiny Arrancar bowled over the orange-haired shinigami, crying and yelling raucously. Ichigo squirmed on the ground, trying without success to throw her off. "You lef' Nel all alooonnne! Why'd ya do dat, Itsygo? That was sooo mean of you! I was lookin' for you for a long time an' then—"

"Nel! Why are you out here following us?" interrupted Ichigo, irritably. The tiny Arrancar sniffed once and smiled, seated squarely on the shinigami's chest.

"I was gonna tell ya, the gates is sealed," she said happily. Everyone stared at her, dumbfounded, while the cold dry breeze blew around them. The sun was quickly falling, and no one was looking forward to spending another night in the frigid desert.

"That'd explain a few things," Renji commented.

"How do you know that?" Ichigo asked.

"Ummmm… I heards it fum somebodies I know?" Her mouth spread in a sheepish grin, laughing hesitantly.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Uryuu said, pressing his glasses up against his nose. The party was silent, each one staring warily back at the castle; save for Orihime, who sat at the edge of the group on the top of a small sand dune. Even Nel stayed quiet, apparently in deep thought.

Then she brightened, and grinned happily up at Ichigo.

"I gots a idea!" she said, and everyone looked around at her. "I can open a gate for ya! Only I never 'member havin' done it before… Lessee…" The tiny Hollow closed her eyes tightly, and pressed a finger to either side of her head. And to everyone's utter astonishment, a portal opened. Beyond lay a grassy plain—the edge of Soul Society grounds. Ichigo stared at Nel in surprise, who seemed completely taken aback by her own actions.

"Wow, thanks," he said, scratching his head.

But Nel seemed even more confused than ever.

"Itsygo, I didn'…" she began, but he was already taking Orihime's hand, and the group headed into the fringes of their home at last. "But… okay… goo'bye then, Itsygo! I gots ta find my friendlies!" And with that, the portal closed behind them, and Orihime stepped out underneath the warm sun and clear blue skies of Soul Society.

* * *

ZOMG. I both love and hate this chapter. I love it because I got to do a FIGHT SCENE YAY! But I think it's terrible because I separated the two of them... but don't worry. I'm nowhere near finished with this story, so don't throw smelly cheeses at me just yet!

Thank you so much for your awesome reviews! Seriously, you guys give me the encouragement I need to continue. And...

I do love fanart... I might actually draw some myself for this story and post it. XD

Fifty plus reviews in a little over a month! I'm going to go have an icecream sundae!


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